ADM Janet Blackbird

Location: Orbit, Mars, United Commonwealth of Colonies

“We’ve got another squadron coming around!” the tactical officer yelled from his pit on Biggie’s bridge.

“Guns?”

“On it, ma’am,” the CMDR whose job had just become infinitely more complicated replied as he barked orders at his crews throughout the ship.

“Helm, alter course to zero-three-zero, close that gap!” ADM Blackbird ordered as she read the holo-tank.

she thought for the hundredth time as Biggie’s railguns opened up on a swarm of drones trying to break through her wedge.

Everything about centuries of naval combat had been turned on its head. The missiles that put millions of kilometers between her and her enemy were now useless. Everything was close up and personal.

The twelve thousand drones had come screaming down on her fleet, but they were only a distraction. They were a bee facing off against an elephant, but they could still sting. An electrical panel burst on the side of the bridge and sparks showered the astrogation section. She didn’t even yell as the damage control party sprang into action to contain the damage and reroute anything pertinent.

Biggie and the other assault carrier had taken the first haymaker of the attack. Twelve thousand missiles were only marginally reduced by the point defense laser, railguns, and fire-and-forget countermissiles of the big ship’s final defensive envelope. Biggie had taken nine hundred and sixty four missiles right in the face. If not for their shields they would be an expanding cloud of debris. Instead, they were only battered. The hit had hurt, but all the assault carriers were still in the fight. A few hundred warheads had gotten through their defense wedges to the more vulnerable ships in the rear. That was the enemy’s true target all along. Once those big ships got in close to tangle with the battleships, they’d be able to pick them apart quick. They wanted to be able to focus on the upgraded models, and not worry about the guns from the others, which despite no shielding, were just as dangerous.

The frustration continued to build for Second Fleet as the drones swept in close and fired off their second and last volley. That had done the most damage, with a couple battleships, and a dozen battlecruisers being knocked out of the fight. None had been destroyed outright, but they were retreating back under the umbrella of the orbital laser cannon’s continuous fire.

Now, the ADM was focused on eliminating the drones and keeping them from breaking through her lines. Those who got through could wreak havoc in her rear, and even endanger the cannons.

“Railguns thirteen through sixteen offline,” the gunnery officer relayed, “but it looks like we got them.” An exhale of relief emanated from the bridge crew as they got a moment to regroup.

The ADM didn’t share in the relief. She was busy swiping and scrolling through the holo-tank and surveying the chaotic reports coming in. Biggie’s defenses were down by twenty-five percent, and she hadn’t even engaged the enemy yet. That was beyond frustrating. They were also coming up on the eight million kilometer mark. This was the outer envelope of Commonwealth capitol missiles. There was no telling what their uninvited guests were capable of, but her crews needed to be at their sharpest now.

The crew realized it too, and they were collectively holding their breaths as the massive warships crossed the invisible point in space. When nothing happened, there was another exhale of relief. This time the ADM joined in.

“Stay sharp, everyone,” she didn’t let up on them though. “Keep updating those targeting solutions. We’re going to have to wait until they’re in close to light them up. Comms, get in touch with the other wedges and get me a full SITREP of the damage they’ve sustained. I know we aren’t the only ones with a bloody nose for our own drones.”

All the wedges were operating autonomously due to the communications issue, but she still needed to know the status of her fleet if she needed to rearrange her assets. She was more of a traffic cop now, moving people into position, than the commander of a fleet.

“Enemy fleet is accelerating, ma’am!” the tactical OIC announced as the ADM watched the numbers climb on the holo-tank. Soon, the large enemy ships were pulling much high accelerations than anything the Commonwealth had.

her jaw dropped as the countdown clock on the holo-tank adjusted down. She didn’t want to know what they would do after that. She didn’t know what these people’s motivations were, but she had to consider that the bombardment of Mars was imminent.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She didn’t have long to think, but the situation was clear. It was Second Fleet’s mission to protect Mars, and that’s what they would do. Her hands shot to the holo-tank. She took in the enemy’s course, her own fleet’s disposition, and least-time approaches to Mars.

“Comms, buckle up because you’re about to have the most hectic twelve minutes of your life,” she passed the package of orders to the officer, and the man’s jaw nearly hit the console. He didn’t argue though, he got his team to work getting the information out.

the ADM thought to herself as she sat back down and watched her bridge crew get to work. This was the moment where their training would pay off, or they’d doom millions of people down on Mars.

She had faith in her people, but everything about this enemy scared the shit out of her.

***

Mark “Coop” Cooper

Location: Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Earth, United Commonwealth of Colonies

{Audio and visual diagnostics are green. Initiative activation sequence,} the AI stated as more and more code flowed across Coop’s vision. He’d stopped looking a while ago. It was giving him a headache.

{Cooper, when it activates, I want you to take it slow,} the LT warned ominously.

Coop grunted and took a few deep breaths to prepare himself. The last initiation had been very unpleasant.

He waited…and waited…and waited…

{Is it always going to take this long?} he asked, {Because the enemy could have launched a rocket right up my ass all in the time it took me to see and hear. It’s piss pour situational awareness.}

{Your initial sync is the longest, and being monitored by a small army of techs right now,} the LT ignored his bitching. {You’re almost there…}

Suddenly, the world appeared, like someone had pulled off a blindfold, and Coop understood why the LT wanted him to take it slow. The incoming data was a little overwhelming, not to mention he was three times his normal size.

{Hold tight. Your AI is going to cycle through spectrums,} Camilla advised. Sure enough, the AI went through IR, night vision, half a dozen other sensors, and finished with Coop’s favorite: millimeter wave radar. The pulse that went out for his suit on that diagnostic gave him unparalleled detail of his surroundings.

It showed him that the 40 LACS of the battalion were not lined up in neat lines. They were gathered in their squadrons, and presumably, their commanders were going through the movement orders. He turned his head to look for Eve, and his MOUNT staggered to the side.

“Easy,” the LT’s voice announced over the external speakers. Her MOUNT caught his before it could fall. The grating of metal-on-metal turned human and machine heads in their direction, but Camilla waved them off. “That’s why I want you to take things slow.”

A private link appeared in his vision, and it opened when his eyes hovered over it. It was a squadron-only channel, and his AI asked him if he really wanted to accept. He did, and the LT’s face, along with Camilla’s, suddenly appeared on the face of their MOUNTS.

“I know, trippy, right?” Camilla’s smirk was as big as a normal man’s torso. “It was the LT’s idea, and a good one. Now, it looks like we’re talking to people and not big metal robots.”

“Let’s lock it up guys,” the LT righted Coop’s MOUNT and Bethesda “Mac” McHenry joined them to complete the squadron. “I’ve got our marching orders.”

“Can anyone march in this thing yet?” Coop felt it was a valid question, and judging by the looks on everyone’s face, he was right.

“We’re being deployed here along with second squadron,” she pinged them with a data packet and Coop opened it. “Our mission is to support the assembly areas where quick reaction forces are being established to get to where things are popping off. We’re to guard them against ground attack and airborne threat.”

“If we’re dealing with airborne threats that means the navy has shit the bed. What are we going to do that five hundred battleships can’t?” Again, Coop felt it was a valid question, and this was usually the point in the briefing where they tried to refine a shitty plan and make it survivable.

“We’ll follow our orders, Cooper. If they blow us to hell from orbit, then at least we won’t have to hear you bitching anymore.” The LT’s joke got a lot of laughs.

Even Coop chuckled a little, but it was one of those chuckles a person did when they knew they were about to get fucked and couldn’t do anything about it. Better to laugh awkwardly then think about how they were about to drown in the shit.

“Air lift will be here within the hour. Until then, we’re going to zero and target these weapon’s systems. Head over to the far side of the bay…”

“Wait, we aren’t going to live fire them?” Coop interrupted.

If she was tired of Coop, the LT didn’t let it show. “That’s all we’ve got time for, and we don’t want to waste any ammo. There is no telling when we’ll get resupply, so every round counts.”

“The first time we’re going to fire live ammunition is in anger?” Coop asked, just to be clear.

“Yes, Cooper,” the LT’s tone sounded tired, and Coop realized she thought this was just as stupid as he did. “The Gold Tech civvies think computer simulations will be good enough to get us up a few more synch points, and ready to fight.

“Well, I’m glad some civilian engineers, who built something that shoves me into a little ball, think we don’t actually need to shoot to be qualified to shoot. I feel much better now.”

No one said anything this time, as they all focused on their steps toward the rear of the hangar. They looked like a bunch of babies, tentatively taking their first steps and afraid to fall on their face.

even in his own head the mock bravado fell flat.