Atlas Space Station
The alarm horns hooted incessantly, making it difficult to think. All throughout Atlas blast doors were dropping into place and sealing airtight. Hiram Brill stared at the holo display, trying hard to overcome his shock and the blaring alarms.
“Will somebody turn that damn thing off?” he shouted. Nobody heard him. He shook his head in frustration, then picked up a pen and threw it at his assistant, Nina, catching her in the head. She turned and glared at him. He pointed to the alarm horn and made a slashing motion across his throat. She nodded and bent over her computer and a moment later the horns made a last, low moaning sound and blessedly went silent. Hiram returned his attention to the holo display and the information coming in from the sensors spread throughout the minefield.
At first they thought the attack from the rear was simply another probing attack. The Ducks had probed continuously, looking for a flaw in the minefield pattern that might let them slip through. But then the sensors had revealed the number of Duck ships involved and Hiram realized that they had been caught flat footed. The Dominion force blocking the worm hole entrance to Refuge was a feint; the real attack was coming from behind as the Dominions used brute force to bull their way through the minefield. He shook his head. For the Ducks, it was a huge gamble, but it looked like it was working.
The utter ruthlessness of the attack shocked him. The ten Duck mine sweepers had carved a deep channel into the mine field before being destroyed. As he watched, the enemy frigates were cutting into it even deeper, but taking a terrific beating. A cold hand seemed to grab his heart. The Duck admiral, he realized, had just ordered forty ships to their deaths in order to break through to the Atlas, and the sensors revealed that several squadrons of enemy destroyers were lining up to take their turn.
“Nina, send a courier drone out to Admiral Douthat and tell her we are being attacked in force by the Ducks. Estimate at least eighty ships in the attack, maybe more. They are about a quarter way through the minefield. Then call Peter Murphy of the tugboat guild and tell him to haul mines from the front of the Atlas to the rear. Tell him not to thin out any one spot too much, but we need more fire power in our rear.”
He watched for a while longer, counting ships, noting the deepening breach into the minefield. On the holo display, the first squadron of Dominion destroyers moved forward into the breach. “Gandalf?” he called.
“ Commander Brill?”
“Analyze rate of penetration of the minefield by Dominion forces and assume that they will use all available ships to complete the penetration. Estimate how long before they achieve a total breach.”
“Dominion forces could complete penetration sometime between ninety five minutes and three hours and twenty minutes,” Gandalf replied in its usual soothing voice.
Hiram nodded to himself, all the while wanting to scream and run and hide. Admiral Douthat was hours away. The entire Queen’s Own and Black Watch were with her. The Queen was still on Atlas, more vulnerable every minute. The only option he had left was to somehow beef up the minefield and throw in the Coldstream Guards, who were outnumbered ten to one.
He walked back to his chair and sat down heavily, then made the call he did not want to make.
• • • • •
The Coldstream Guard waited nervously. They knew something was going on behind them in the rear of the minefield, but they didn’t know what. When Hiram Brill’s call came into the Bristol, Captain Rowe almost groaned. He knew where this was going. As Brill began to explain, Rowe decided it would be easier if all of the ships’ captains heard the message, so he conferenced them in.
“…just starting to send in their destroyers to increase the penetration of the minefield,” Brill was saying as Emily’s com screen filled with faces of the other captains. “At their current rate, unless we slow them down, they’ll breach the minefield in less than three hours, well before Admiral Douthat can get back here with reinforcements.”
Hiram looked older, Emily thought. Or tired. There were strain lines in his face and he looked gaunt.
“What do you want us to do?” asked Captain Rowe. Not that he didn’t already know.
“The Coldstream Guard has to deploy into the minefield and slow them down. Buy time. We are filling in the minefield as quickly as we can, but all that will do is buy us a few minutes, maybe an hour. You need to harass them, distract them, do whatever you can until Admiral Douthat gets back.”
“And once we do that, what’s our secondary mission?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate Everest. Everyone chuckled. Emily liked Captain Fuller; she had what her mother used to refer to as ‘spunk.’ Of course, Everest was the only Coldstream Guard frigate left, all of the others had been destroyed.
“Atlas,” Rowe said. “I’ve got four cruisers, two of which are in bad shape. Seven destroyers, all with extensive damage, one of which should have been declared a yard job. I’ve got two cruisers from Third Fleet, both with understaffed crews and another destroyer, also hurting.”
“And you have the pride of the Coldstream Guard, the H.M.S. Everest,” Fuller reminded him.
“And the Everest,” Rowe acknowledged with a tired smile.
Hiram stared at him. “Captain,” he said bluntly, “You are all I’ve got.” He hesitated, then added, “Queen Anne says she will remain on the Atlas and that she has the greatest confidence in you.”
And there it was. They were the last line of protection for the Queen.
“Well, tell the Queen that we’d have a lot more confidence in her judgement if she’d put her ass on a fast ship and get the hell to Refuge,” Fuller said, her usual bravado missing. Emily waited for Rowe to chastise her, but he said nothing. Fuller had simply said what they were all thinking.
“We’ve got a couple of scout boats that we are arming,” Hiram said, choosing to ignore Fuller’s outburst. “We’ll get them to you as soon as we can, but…” His voice trailed off.
Captain Rowe rubbed a hand across his face. “All right, Atlas, we’ll buy you some time. Use it well, it’s going to come dear.”
“We will, sir,” Hiram said. “God’s speed.”
Emily looked at the faces of the other captains and wondered how many of them would still be alive in a few hours.
Admiral Mello watched as the last squadron of five destroyers entered the cauldron. Thus far the destroyers had clawed their way through eighty percent of the minefield, at an extravagant cost in ships and men.
A strong man could shape the universe, if he had the will.
Beside him, he could sense Captain Pattin standing rigidly, radiating disapproval. He studied the holograph display carefully, measuring the depth of the remaining Vicky minefield. The task force still had fifteen cruisers and two battleships, if he included Admiral Kaeser’s Fortitude, though privately he did not think he could trust the Fortitude in a pinch.
Captain Pattin cleared her throat. “The destroyers have run out of anti-matter munitions, Admiral.”
Mello sighed. Without anti-matter warheads, the destroyers would have to scrape away at the minefield with regular high explosives and lasers, just as the mine sweepers and frigates had. They would die quickly. Sacrifice was one thing, useless sacrifice another. “Pull them out, Captain,” he ordered Pattin. “It’s time for the cruisers and the Vengeance. We’ll save Fortitude in reserve.” And out of the way, he thought.
Admiral Mello formed his fifteen cruisers and the Vengeance into a tight arc, with the Vengeance at the center. The formation aligned itself with the hole formed by frigates and destroyers.
“Sensors are showing Vicky destroyers working through the minefield towards us,” Captain Pattin warned. “Can’t get a clear readout, but there could be eight or nine of them.”
“It does not matter,” Mello replied. “They are too late.” He gave the signal.
As one, the sixteen Dominion war ships accelerated and shot a pattern of anti-matter war heads into the minefield in front of them. Five missiles, then ten, then forty, then eighty, shot into the last layer of the Victorian minefield. Moments later, they detonated simultaneously.
Space tore itself apart.
“Gods of our Mothers!” The sensor display on the New Zealand abruptly shut down as fail-safe switches kicked in. “What the hell was that?” Alex Rudd demanded.
“Sir, it looks like they just let loose with a shit load of anti-matter bombs,” Seaman Partridge replied from the Sensors console. “Dozens of them, I think. Last image I had was of sixteen ships in a circular pattern; cruisers, according to Merlin. Plus one very large ship in the center, larger than our battleships.”
Emily and Rudd exchanged a glance. There had been rumors that the Dominions were experimenting with very large battleships. It would make sense to support them with cruisers.
“When do we get sensors back, Mr. Partridge?” Emily asked.
“Another minute, Ma’am.”
“As fast as you can, Mr. Partridge. I dislike being blind.”
The communications screen blossomed to life. Captain Rowe of the Bristol appeared, looking disheveled. “They just took out another five percent of the minefield’s thickness,” he said without preamble. “Bristol still has sensors and I’ll send you the latest readings. Merlin is telling me they can punch through in three more attacks if they continue to use anti-matter weapons.”
“Good Christ, they can’t have that many anti-matter warheads in their arsenal. They just shot off more than the Home Fleet has in its entire inventory!” said the captain of the Emerald Isle. Anti-matter weapons were extremely expensive to make and notoriously tricky to use. You could never be sure what the exact radius would be of the bomb’s blast zone, and if the anti-matter particles spun off into other matter, it would start a chain explosion that would go on as long as there was enough matter to feed it.
“We have to get in there and break up their formation,” Rowe said. “I want the cruiser Australia and all of the Coldstream Guard destroyers with me. We’re going after the cruisers. We’re going to focus on five of the bastards. Merlin will give you targets and we will make a coordinated launch with everything we’ve got. We aren’t going for kills, just trying to fluster them enough to screw up their formation.” His eyes shifted until he found Emily. “Tuttle, I want you to take the cruiser Emerald Isle and the three ships from the Second Fleet and work your way in until you can launch everything you can against that damn battleship. Concentrate on its propulsion system.”
“I’m the senior officer!” protested Captain Specht, captain of the Emerald Isle. She was short and aggressive and very touchy about her place in the Coldstream Guard hierarchy. “I should command this sortie, not someone who has been a captain for ten hours.”
Rowe didn’t mince words. “Cindy, the Emerald Isle is barely able to function. Your sensors are impaired, half your weapons don’t work and the other half can only be fired on manual. Your engine room is held together with duct tape. I need you in the fight, but there is a good chance your ship is going to fall apart once things get hot and you know it. If that happens, I can’t afford the time to shift command to a new ship. Tuttle has already worked with the Yorkshire, Kent and Galway. She gets the job.”
Captain Specht didn’t like it, but said nothing.
“What about me?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate Everest.
“Johanna, the Everest won’t last ten minutes once the fighting starts, not going toe-to-toe with Duck cruisers. I’ve got something else for you. I want you to return immediately to the Atlas — ” Fuller began to protest, but Rowe cut her off — “and find Lord Henry. Tell him that I have ordered you to remove Queen Anne from the Atlas and take her at the fastest possible speed to Refuge. Get her to safety, Johanna, even if you have to remove her forcibly from the Atlas. Do you understand?”
Everyone understood: Captain Rowe didn’t think they could stop the Dominion attack. He wanted the Queen removed because the Atlas was going to be destroyed.
“Sweet Gods of our Mothers,” someone muttered.
Captain Fuller nodded grimly. “I’ll see you all in Refuge.” Her face disappeared from the comm screen and in a moment the Everest was accelerating hard back toward the space station.
“You’ve got your orders,” Rowe said briskly. “Keep attacking until you have exhausted your missiles, then use lasers as best you can. Don’t let up! We are buying time here. You are to attack until Admiral Douthat reaches Atlas, then break off and regroup there. Good luck to you.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself, then looked around the bridge. Alex Rudd was busy tying in the other ships into the New Zealand’s communication system. Chief Gibson looked dazed, but began checking his inventory of missiles and drones. Betty stood at the comm console, tears streaming down her face. She forced a smile when she saw Emily looking at her and nodded, lips trembling. Mr. Partridge was whistling a soft tune under his breath, giving his sensors a once-over.
“Alice, tell the other ships to go to passive sensors and stealth conditions. We are going to go high and attack the Duck battleship from above. Detailed instructions will follow soon.” As soon as I can figure out what the hell I am going to do.
The first attack with anti-matter weapons destroyed about a third of the remaining layer of the Vicky minefield. Admiral Mello was disappointed; he had hoped for more.
“How long before we’re ready for the second attack?” he asked Captain Pattin. The anti-matter missiles had to be loaded manually. They were configured differently than regular missiles and were not compatible with the auto-loaders. A serious design flaw, in Mello’s opinion, but there had not been time for a reconfiguration of the missiles or the auto-loaders before they left Timor.
Captain Pattin glanced at her console. “Thirty minutes, Admiral.”
Mello fumed and cursed the men who designed the damn anti-matter weapons without proper consideration for combat conditions. “Very well. Order all ships to match speed with the Vicky minefield and keep an eye out for those Vicky destroyers. They’ll be desperate to break up our formation.”
“As you order, Admiral.
Emily took the New Zealand, Emerald Isle, Yorkshire, Kent and Galway higher and higher into the minefield, until they were five hundred miles above the plane of advance of the Duck battleship. By then the minefield had thinned out and they would become starkly visible once they left its meager shelter. The Dominion cruisers had slowed their rate of advance and were plodding along. She didn’t know what they were waiting for, but she fervently wished she had some anti-matter missiles of her own. Somewhere below her, Captain Rowe was slowly picking his way through the minefield, hoping to get as close as he could to the Duck cruisers and catch them by surprise. It was a desperate gamble.
Emily still had no idea what to do, other than just popping out of the minefield and firing every weapon available when they had a clear shot at the enemy battleship.
“Captain Tuttle, Captain Specht is on the line; she wants to talk to you.” Betty’s hand hovered over the console, ready to put them on the screen.
Emily exchanged a look with Alex Rudd. “Betty, is she on needle laser or the standard comm channel.”
Betty’s jaw worked. “Standard comm channel, Captain.”
Emily frowned. She had ordered everyone to stealthy running, which meant meant no communications unless it was really important and then only by needle laser.
Chief Gibson leaned over and whispered. “Lieutenant, Captain Rowe specifically put you in charge of this mission. You are in command. You don’t have to apologize for that to Captain Specht or take any crap from her.” She looked at him, feeling more gratitude than she could express. He nodded once and went back to his console.
“Put her on,” she told Betty. Captain Specht’s face appeared on the screen.
“Captain Tuttle, I am waiting for your battle plan,” Specht said impatiently.
“Captain Specht, we are in stealth mode, which means no radio communications,” Emily said coldly. “If you must contact me, contact me by needle laser per your orders. The battle plan will be forthcoming. New Zealand out”
Emily cut the communication and sat back in the command chair. She folded her arms, and then crossed her legs. Then she unfolded her arms and uncrossed her legs.
She had no idea what to do.
On the Dominion ship Vengeance, a sensors operator lifted his head from his instruments. “Sighting! We’ve just caught three seconds of an encrypted radio transmission from the forward edge of the minefield, on a bearing that puts them between four and six hundred miles above our plane of advance at thirty degrees off Virtual North. Not seeing any ships in the clutter, but there is somebody there.”
“Good, good.” Admiral Mello rubbed his hands together. “Mark that point and watch it. Captain Pattin, ready two anti-matter missiles for that position. Do not fire until I tell you.” Mello grinned wolfishly. He loved this. The Vickies were there and he knew it, and they didn’t know that he knew. As soon as they showed themselves, he would blanket the area with anti-matter munitions, then punch a hole to the Atlas and it would be his.
“How much longer until the anti-matter weapons are fully loaded?” he asked again.
“Twelve minutes,” Captain Pattin answered.
Soon. Very soon.
The H.M.S. Everest reached the Atlas and docked. When Captain Fuller stepped into the docking bay, she was astonished to find Queen Anne Radcliff Mendoza Churchill waiting for her, alone except for Sir Henry and four of her armsmen, each of whom carried a weapon open in his hand.
“You must be Johanna Fuller,” Queen Anne greeted her warmly. “I have heard much of you and the Everest.”
Fuller blinked. With her stood five of her crew, mostly senior chiefs who could be counted on in a pinch, all armed. The Queen’s bodyguards were watching them intently.
“Your Majesty,” she began, “I’ve been ordered-”
Queen Anne nodded. “Yes, yes, of course you have.” She smiled and extended a hand. “Come, Captain, walk with me.” Her eyes sparkled. “But tell your men to restrain themselves from doing anything, um, provocative. My armsmen are very protective of me and we wouldn’t want any unpleasantness, would we?”
They ambled across the ship bay and into the crews’ lounge. All the while Queen Anne smiled warmly and Sir Henry glowered and scowled. Two more armsmen joined them, taking up a rear position behind her five chiefs. The chiefs looked increasingly unhappy and took great care to keep their hands away from their weapons.
“Captain Rowe, bless him, sent you to take me to Refuge,” the Queen said matter-of-factly. “But I have a more important task for you, Johanna. May I call you Johanna?”
Johanna Fuller felt like she had fallen into the rabbit hole, her earlier determination to march in and grab the Queen draining away.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Johanna, my advisors tell me that the Dominion have enough force to reach the Atlas within a few hours, maybe as little as two. We have several hundred tug boats that have been towing us, rather slowly I’m afraid, toward the Refuge wormhole. While you have been off fighting, about a hundred of the tugs have dropped their tow lines — I know they’re not really lines, Johanna, but that’s how I think of them — and have picked up missile launcher pods. These pods, I am told, are designed to work through a war ship’s combat AI. The tugs don’t have that type of AI, but the Everest does.” The Queen stopped and turned to her.
“So, Johanna, instead of spiriting me away to Refuge and taking a terrible risk that we will lose the Atlas, I want you to lead the tugs back and attack the Dominion ships.”
“For the love of God, Your Majesty!” Sir Henry said urgently. “You must leave! Get on the Everest and go to Refuge while you still can!”
Queen Anne smiled wanly and touched his hand. “Sir Henry, without the Atlas, all I would be in Refuge is a historical footnote, languishing without a people to lead or any means of projecting power. Atlas is our industrial base, the womb of our next fleet. While we have Atlas, Victoria has hope. We will stay together, Atlas and I.” She turned back to Fuller.
“So, Captain Johanna Fuller, will you lead them back?”
At the very edge of the mine field, slightly below the plane of advance of the Dominion cruisers, Captain Rowe closed his eyes and silently said a prayer for the safety of his ship and crew. Then he quietly spoke into the comm. “Advance. On my signal, fire missiles and lasers and fall back into the minefield.”
Two cruisers and seven destroyers crept forward and poked their noses out of the minefield. Merlin had already selected targets: the five Dominion cruisers on the enemy’s right flank.
“Fire!”
Each ship flushed its missile batteries in a single orgy of fire, then fired every available laser. Then, as one, they turned and raced back into the minefield, seeking whatever protection they could find there. Had they been at full readiness, they would have fired a total of one hundred and ten missiles and twenty five lasers, but all they could manage was seventy two missiles and fifteen lasers. All the lasers were concentrated on one enemy cruiser, leaving eighteen missiles for each of the remaining four cruisers. At normal ranges, this would never have been enough, but the enemy cruisers were less than four hundred miles behind the minefield and the missiles sprinted over that distance in seconds.
Rowe watched through the eyes of a loitering drone. The cruiser struck by lasers shied off, its sensors blinded and its propulsion system faltering, air streaming from several breaches of its hull. Another cruiser triggered its Dark Matter Brake and quickly fell behind. The three others seemed to fair better and immediately began to counter-fire with missiles and lasers in abundance, seeking out the Victorians, who in turn bobbed and weaved in a desperate attempt to get back into the minefield.
“Clear to the left!” Captain Rowe ordered his attack force. “They’ll saturate this area with anti-matter bombs in a moment. Clear to the left!”
The nine ships wheeled away and accelerated, shooting decoys behind them to throw off the Ducks’ tracking. As they fled, each ship pushed its engines to maximum military power, but combat and damage had taken their toll and within minutes the ships began to separate. Soon the Swansea and Repulse were far behind.
Captain Rowe studied his hologram. He was leading his attack force several degrees to the left of where they had first attacked. Now he ordered the ships to slow and turn back toward the edge of the minefield. “Is everyone reloaded?” he asked Merlin.
“Australia, complete. Bristol will be complete in ninety seconds; Auckland, Sydney and New Castle are loaded; Coral Bay, Perth and Darwin will be complete in three minutes; no report from Swansea and Repulse,” Merlin reported.
Rowe frowned. “Merlin, report location of Swansea and Repulse.”
“Insufficient data. There is no C2C contact and without active sensors neither ship can be located within the minefield,” the AI reported matter-of-factly.
Rowe shook his head. Dammit! Down two ships already. He thumbed the comm to speak to his other captains. “Okay, Swansea and Repulse are out of contact. I don’t know if they are out of action or just lagging behind without radio communications, but we can’t wait. We’re going to pop out of the minefield again and target more of the Dominion cruisers. Keep a tight formation, and once you’ve fired, get back into the minefield as quickly as you can. This may be our last shot at this, so make it good. Each ship acknowledge orders!”
The remaining ships acknowledged and headed one more for the edge of the minefield.
Admiral Mello scowled at the battle display. There were two Vicky forces out there, one stalking the Vengeance, the other actively attacking his cruisers. Two cruisers had been badly damaged and were out of action. The after-effects of the anti-matter weapons and the general clutter of the minefield made it impossible to get a clear picture of where they were.
No matter, he would find them.
“Computer, plot a line left and right of the original attack by the Victorian cruisers and show furthest possible location of enemy ships within that area.”
The battle display flickered and an orange tint appeared over the area where the Vickies could be hiding. Mello studied it, then nodded.
“Captain Pattin, are the anti-matter weapons fully loaded on all ships?”
“Yes, Admiral,” she replied.
Mello tapped his fingers on the armrest. “Send a message to all ships. At the first sign of enemy activity…” He spelled out his orders.
Two thousand miles behind the H.M.S. Bristol, the H.M.S. Swansea and Repulse crept along at thirty percent power, all either of them could manange.
“Bugger me,” the captain of the Repulse muttered. His holo display looked like a ball of fuzz in fog. “Where the hell did they go?” He turned to his Communications Officer. “Willy, are we in touch with anybody?”
“Yes, sir, the Swansea. We’ve lost her a couple of times, but we keep finding her again.”
Captain O’Toole stifled a groan. He and the captain of the Swansea had cordially hated each other since their days at the Academy. Just bad chemistry. Once he had even asked her to dance at the Academy Ball and she had told him, loudly, that she wouldn’t dance with him if it were the last dance in the world and he was the only man there. To make it worse, they couldn’t seem to get away from each other. They went through Command School training together, were on the same battleship together as Ensigns, had gone to frigates together and then were both promoted to destroyers in the Home Fleet.
He sighed. No help for it. “Swansea, this is Repulse.”
“Swansea here, Bert. What do you want?” Captain Joan Cummings didn’t sound happy to hear from him.
“Joan, our passive sensors are totally shot and I don’t want to go active unless I absolutely have to. Do you have any idea where the Bristol is?”
“We’re pretty much flying blind here,” the Swansea’s captain replied. “We can barely see you with our passive sensors and you’re close enough to spit on.”
Dammit. Bert O’Toole ran through his options, which didn’t take long. He could run or he could fight.
“Joan, you reloaded yet?”
“Fifty percent capacity, but that’s as good as it’s going to get. Two of our auto loaders are buggered. What shape are you in?”
O’Toole grimaced. Repulse had a full loadout of missiles but only two operational lasers. Worse, the missile magazines had been damaged, so they couldn’t move any more missiles into the auto loaders. And Engineering was warning that the propulsion system was overheating and if they didn’t shut it down completely in the next thirty minutes, they would all be taking a Long Walk. “Yeah, well, we’re pretty much buggered over here, too.”
There was a long pause. “So whatta think, Bertie?” She knew he hated that name. “Shall we run for Atlas or take another shot at these bastards?”
O’Toole snorted. “I don’t suppose we could just demand they surrender?”
Cummings laughed ruefully. “Well, maybe later. Rowe must be planning to attack again, and our fine feathered friends will be shooting off another round of anti-matter fireworks pretty soon. If we’re going to pop ‘em, we better do it fast. Are you up to this or not?” she demanded.
O’Toole sighed. For a fleeting moment he pictured his wife and two daughters, then forced the images out of his mind. Play the hand you’re dealt, Bert.
“Okay, Joan, looks like I get to dance with you after all.”
“Sweet suffering Mothers, haven’t you gotten over that yet? All right, one dance. Let’s make it one to remember, Bertie. I’m setting AI to Max,” Cummings said.
“Setting AI to Max,” O’Toole agreed. “Combat seperation, fire whenever you can.”
“Last one back to Atlas buys the beer,” she said. “Swansea out.”
O’Toole grinned and cut his connection. He turned to his bridge crew, who were staring at him with wide-eyed apprehension. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re going to dance!” He raised his voice. “Prepare decoys! Merlin, go to Max!”
“Who shall I attack?” growled Max.
“Advance and fire!” Captain Rowe ordered. The two cruisers and five remaining destroyers pushed past the edge of the minefield.
“Enemy sighted!” shouted the Dominion Sensors Officer. Admiral Mello whirled to the battle display. Two red dots were emerging slowly from the Victorian minefield, slightly to the left of where they had last been spotted.
“All ships, fire! Fire! Fire!” he yelled.
The thirteen remaining Dominion cruisers fired their anti-matter weapons as one. Their missiles criss-crossed with the incoming Victorian missiles and exploded. The Victorian ships and a huge piece of the minefield they were near vanished in an expanding ball of corpse-white light.
“Reload!” ordered Admiral Mello, although the order was unnecessary. The cruisers were reloading as fast as they could.
“What the fuck was that?” Captain Rowe screamed. “Sensors, report, dammit!”
“Sensors identify them as the Swansea and Repulse,” the Sensors Officer said, his voice shrill with excitement and stress. “They popped out and flushed their weapons at one of the Duck cruisers, then all of the Dominion ships blasted them with anti-matter missiles.”
“Status of Swansea and Repulse?”
The Sensors Officer shook his head emphatically. “Code Omega, sir. No life pods, no nothin’.”
“Enemy cruiser?”
“They killed it, sir.”
Well, that was something, at least, he thought bitterly. “Fire all weapons!” Rowe ordered. The two cruisers and five destroyers concentrated on four of the Dominion cruisers. All four sustained heavy damage and fell out of formation. Two of them blundered into the minefield and were chewed up by missile mines.
“Pull back,” Rowe said again. “Reload missiles and recharge lasers!”
The eight undamaged Dominion cruisers frantically tried to recharge their lasers, but for the moment their entire weapons array was empty and impotent. Dominion cruiser captains were not selected for their timidity, however. As one the eight ships accelerated forward, intent on maintaining sensor contact with the retreating Vickies so that they could destroy them once their weapons were back on line.
Then the H.M.S. Everest reached the front edge of the minefield, flanked by twenty stout tugboats and their precious missile pods. More tugs were arriving behind them.
“Merlin!” Captain Johanna Fuller called. “Slave all missile pods to you and fire when ordered.”
A pause. “Twenty five pods are clear to fire; all systems integrated.”
Fuller turned to her Sensors Officer. “Go active, Fiona, we’ll only get one shot.”
Fiona nodded, pale and pinched, but her hands were steady as she typed in her orders. A moment later her sensor array blasted its energy across the incoming Dominion cruisers and her readout display lit up with tracking data. Several lights turned red and tones sounded. On the frigate’s battle display, more tugs appeared on their flanks and their missile pods synchronized with the Everest’s computer.
“Firm locks on three of the ships coming towards us, Captain.”
“Merlin!”
“I have locks.”
“Then fire, you damn computer! Fire!” Fuller said, eyes intent on the battle display, a wide grin on her face. God, she had waited so long for this!
Admiral Mello leapt from his seat. “How did that happen?” he shouted angrily. The battle display showed that three of his remaining eight cruisers just blew apart. The Sensors Officer flinched, then stammered. “Admiral, Vicky reinforcements have just arrived. Missile pods. More are arriving.”
Admiral Mello seethed. “Full military power! All anti-matter missiles prepare to launch on my order. Lasers, target any missile pods and fire as soon as you have a lock.” He folded his arms and glowered at the battle display.
The battleship Vengeance leapt forward. It shouldered past the wreckage of two cruisers, simply plowing through the debris and life pods. Vicky missiles reached out for it and the Vengeance swatted them down with lasers. Its main battle lasers probed for the offending Vicky missile platforms and turned them into molten slag.
“More missile platforms arriving,” the Sensors Officer warned.
One thousand miles away from the Everest, Captain Rowe of the Bristol looked at his battle display, where dozens of tugboats were emerging into view on either side of a small glowing blue dot. He increased magnification and smiled when he saw the ship’s name: H.M.S. Everest. “Best damn frigate captain in the Fleet,” he muttered to himself, relief washing over him.
“All ships,” Rowe radioed to the others, “turn around and go back to the edge of the minefield. Fire as soon as you have targets.” The seven ships wheeled about and sped back to minefield’s edge, where they would be clear to fire once more.
We’re going to do this! Rowe thought savagely.
Above the fighting, Emily Tuttle watched the battle display in horrid fascination. On the display the enemy battleship looked like a marauding bull, huge and unstoppable as it raced forward to join battle with the Victorian forces.
“Geez, look at the bloody size of that thing,” someone muttered reverently.
“‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!’” Seaman Partridge quoted softly.
Emily looked at him and blinked in surprise. Rudd shook his head and snorted. “You have unknown depths, Mr. Partridge. Now, please, tell us what the hell is happening.”
“Admiral, two Vicky cruisers and five destroyers are joining the missile platforms!” the Sensors Officer called out.
Admiral Mello nodded in satisfaction. The enemy ships were massing directly in front of them. Excellent.
A strong man can bend the universe to his will.
“Fire the anti-matter missiles!”
Captain Rowe watched, appalled, as the monster sized battleship appeared on his holo screen. The Bristol had arrived a moment too soon; none of his ships had had a chance to reload their missiles and only a handful of lasers were ready. He was dimly aware that more of the missile pods were firing, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough.
“All anti-missile batteries to full automatic!” he ordered.
The anti-matter missiles sped towards him. Rowe just had time for a fleeting thought of his wife and teenage son. His son would grow up without-
Then he was gone.