Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Read online

  Last but not least in the process, the Torino and her sister ships, along with the entire escort force, would skim through the atmosphere to retrieve the landing force that was returning with the Senator. If things on the surface went catastrophically wrong, the entire landing force would exfiltrate at that time and all ground forces would return to the Assault Ships.

  From there, it was off to their designated phase line, gray, and orders to either head out of the system or rendezvous for a battle to recapture Delos. The use of a phase line, which was an arbitrary line between two coordinates, was much more practical than a single point in space because of all the vessels that would need to cluster around the area. Passing a phase line allowed for the accounting of vessels, but allowed room for more to head in, rather than having every ship try to gather around a single point in space.

  Loren kept an eye on the countdown time and wished for the fortieth time that day that he was back in his Talon. Sure, in a vacuum he saw how he could make a difference here helping fight the whole ship. But deep down, he was a pilot, and there was a part of his soul trying to claw its’ way out of him right now and head out on its’ own to the cockpit of Loren’s dark and unpowered Talon whether the rest of his body was coming along or not. He at least had that tiny comfort to console him; someone was flying one of the spares, and Loren’s fighter, the one he himself had flown through enough combat missions he had lost count, was not being flown by another. Pilots grew attached to their craft, many times jealously so, and Loren was no exception. He had arranged for one of the spares to be made ready for the replacement pilot that had been transferred to Avenger to keep the squadron at full strength. This in effect rendered Loren’s fighter the spare, another distinction that made him cringe at the implication.

  Merritt and Web ran the fighter wing of Avenger by themselves now, with Cory as acting CAG. Loren felt like he had somehow lost something, that the three of them were experiencing things together that would make him feel left out the next time they saw each other. It was an uneasy feeling, sending his friends out while he was left behind. He wanted to cling to the past, to just go put on a flight suit and be one of the fighter jocks, but it was too late now. Avenger’s fighters were all away, part of the swarm of Talons, Intruders, Prowlers, and Marauders escorting the Assault Ships that Avenger would meet up with soon enough.

  His daydream was interrupted by three warning tones as the countdown timer reached zero. Avenger and eleven other Crusaders jumped into hyperspace.

  Captain Visat was in command of the Priman ship Birthright. He was also entrusted with the responsibility of commanding the sixty capital ships that would be on hand to greet the Confederation Navy when they finally worked up the nerve to attack. While not part of Commander Velk’s inner planning circle, as commander of the fleet he was privy enough to have plenty of information available to him. He knew that the assault on Confed Navy HQ, slated to jump off in half an hour, was part of a twofold operation. While the destruction of the base, with its’ command structure, shipyards, and vast supply dumps, was desired, his superiors were more so hoping to draw the hovering Confed Navy into an engagement to defend the installation.

  He also knew that the Confeds were in the area because they planned a rescue attempt of the Senator who had been making those annoying subversive broadcasts for the last few months. He couldn’t believe that nobody had found the man and imprisoned or shot him yet, since he had no knowledge of Ples Damar or the whole operation to place the Senator back with Confed. He only knew that he was hoping the Confeds would use their rescue fleet to engage his forces in an attempt to save Confederation Navy HQ. And if he could get their forces to commit to battle, he would call in the forty other capital ships hiding on the other side of the system’s sun, masked by distance, solar radiation, and two moons.

  His fleet was arrayed in formation, and he was impatient for the operation to start. He anticipated a victory.

  Representative Terir’s shuttle was in the process of docking with the destroyer that would take him out of the system. The ship was already on the way out of the area, passing behind Delos, past the system’s star, and through the forty reserve warships that were waiting in ambush for the Confederation fleet. He exchanged the expected pleasantries with the officer sent to greet him, then asked to be escorted to the bridge. He wanted to view the assault with the ship’s captain, and have access to all the same information. He was getting used to having power, and to the reaction of others to his rank.

  Upon entering the bridge, the captain was respectfully quick about introducing himself and welcoming Terir aboard. Terir requested a station to monitor the battle personally, even though the captain had offered to set up a repeater display in the location of his choice. Terir settled in, making himself comfortable and waiting for the inevitable ambush that would weaken Confed and hasten his rise to power.

  The lead ships in the main body of the Third Fleet winked back into realspace in the Delos System ready to do battle. They adopted the standard cone configuration, with the pointed end facing in towards their objective. The overlapping fields of fire provided maximum protection for a frontal assault, but was less effective when engaging enemies on the flanks or from behind. Still, it was the Confederation’s preferred way to enter an unknown situation. The fleet was preceded by a cloud of fighter ships, hundreds of Talons, Intruders, Marauders, and Prowlers whose job was to range ahead of the capital ships and engage the enemy at a distance.

  Long range sensors painted a picture much like the planners had expected; a large Priman fleet was arrayed between Delos and Confederation Navy HQ, with the lead elements conducting what appeared to be long range laser bombardment. While Confed preferred torpedoes for long range engagement, the Primans seemed to favor entirely energy based weapons, and their long range laser batteries were noticeably superior to Confed’s.

  A cluster of battleships and Sabre class carriers at the heart of the Confed formation constituted the command center of the fleet. In the C3 of the flagship, the Sabre class carrier Galaxy, Fleet Admiral Dant, a female Trin, commanded the formation in the brisk, clipped tones typical of her race. The first thing she noticed was that the Priman assault on Confed Navy HQ had already started. It was inconvenient timing, but not unexpected and had been considered as a possibility. She would have preferred to lead the Primans to HQ and arrange for an optimum attack by HQ’s forces, but she would manage.

  “Orders,” she stated simply to the techs arrayed before her beyond the command dias that dominated the space. The communications techs, each responsible for certain formations and familiar with their tasking, waited eagerly. “Orient us towards the heart of the Priman fleet, all ahead flank speed. Send fighters to the rear of the Priman formation and tell them to commence the attack. Let me know when we are close enough for long range bombardment with torpedoes and turbolaser batteries.”

  On the other side of the system, more Confed forces readied themselves. Avenger and her eleven counterparts began their run in towards the Priman fleet, following the plan that had been laid out. They would conduct an Elco Style approach (so named after Captain Elco’s use of an unpowered attack run early in the war. Captain Elco hated the name, of course, but didn’t have veto power over the Fleet Admiral that started using the term) towards the middle of the Priman fleet, since the front and rear of the enemy formation would be receiving attention from other Confed forces.

  Captain Elco watched in silent awe as a few initial long range shots were traded between fleets, then escalated as calibrations were verified and ranges closed. The Primans didn’t change their orientation, leaving their entire fleet headed straight for Confed Navy HQ. The Confederation formation still bore down on the Primans with the pointed end of the cone headed straight for the heart of the enemy. It seemed symbolic somehow, but Elco would find time to describe the scene with more eloquent prose after it was all over. For now, he simply watched as the long range batteries of the Primans and torpedoes of the Confeds
closed on each other, then passed on the way to their respective targets. Not much damage was done in the initial volleys, but the battle was definitely joined, and as of right now, was still going just like they had game planned. Elco knew that would end shortly, to be replaced by the chaotic fog of real battle. It would no longer be 3D models and fake casualty numbers, but real people dying on both sides. It was a shame it had to come to this, but Elco also felt strongly that, while violence should be avoided if possible, there were also times where it was necessary and appropriate, and should be applied with maximum prejudice.

  He checked the link to Loren in C3, and found him hard at work keeping the weaponry of Avenger on task. All they could do now was wait and coast in. Everyone was just a bit nervous, and rightly so. All twelve Crusaders were coasting in towards the Priman fleet with powered-down reactors, undefended targets really, stomachs churning because there was nothing they could do until they reached their launch point. Soon enough, Elco saw the distance close on the main holo display. It showed the Priman and Confed fleets beginning to maneuver, earlier than had been anticipated. The stealth approach worked at its’ most efficient if the torpedoes were fired cold with no guidance; if they had to turn on their guidance packages because they were maneuvering, the Primans would detect them much sooner.

  There was still no evidence they had been detected, and they finally reached their launch points. The Crusaders launched their volley of torpedoes on the ship’s battery backups, still not powering up their reactors. The torpedoes needed to run for as long as possible with no signs from the Confeds they were in the area. Elco checked a smaller screen and saw the mass of fighters swarming around the rear of the Priman fleet. Intruders were launching torpedoes by the dozens, while Talons tried to defend them from angry Priman interceptors, who buzzed about with a vengeance, trying to protect their own capital ships.

  Finally, it was time to power up, the Crusaders having gotten so close that an observant Priman crewmember would probably be able see them visually with powerful enough optics. The Crusaders powered up their drives and executed hard turns to clear the area and head out-system to their eventual rendezvous with the Assault Ships and their other escorts. They drew fire from the Primans, whose ships were still oriented towards HQ but possessed significant broadside firepower. The Crusaders took repeated hits, concentrated volleys of withering fire, and while their stealth worked to an extent and the fire wasn’t as accurate as it should have been, they paid a price in damage sustained. Damage assessments were hard to obtain on the effectiveness of their torpedoes- without a guidance link, they didn’t know where their shots had hit or even if they had detonated. Elco could tell from the battle computers that the Primans had taken a beating in the strike, but no individual ship would be able to claim any confirmed damage for themselves.

  Elco watched the damage status board on the bridge, relieved to see only shield degradation which would replenish soon enough. A quick glance at the formation status board showed two of the ships had taken serious enough punishment to damage systems, but he noted neither was a mission-kill and they would continue to fight. Phase One complete, he thought. The idea was to keep the Primans from committing their forces to a decisive attack on any one target by keeping them guessing which Confed force was going to take the battle to them. If only the rest would go so smoothly. He knew that was too much to ask.

  Halley had waited three whole days since her last communication with her handlers at Naval Intelligence, and was not enjoying the wait. She had received an acknowledgement of her request for help, but still no further information. Her cryptic message, relayed as a personals ad, had read: “Woman, brunette, looking for missed connection with man. You were with several friends, seemed in a rush. I think you were married. We met in a parking garage. Would like to hang out again, have some things to talk about. I have friends to introduce, bring your friend with the big muscles. Let’s meet again in the parking garage, that’s how I’ll know it’s you.” The ad ended with one of Halley’s many fake comm addresses here on Callidor. Each part of her message was code for something, and her handlers should have put everything together with a little bit of research into the after-action report on her adventures with Loren’s pilots on Callidor six months ago.

  That report, which would have been created using Loren’s accounts as well as the nanite-generated recordings and data she had transferred to Loren’s blood, should have given anyone enough information. In addition, her report smuggled out by Garrett would be cross referenced to lead to a pretty obvious request.

  She had said, in so many words: “It’s me, Halley, sending a message for Loren and company. I need your help with something here on Callidor, I will not be alone, bring heavy backup.” The references to Loren being married and the parking garage were intended to be obvious markers for her handlers to help identify who she was asking for. Halley was thinking specifically of the Torino and her giant surface bombardment guns, which would be perfect to attack the Priman DNA research facilities on the planet and at the hidden facility out-system. Really, any capital ship with torpedo batteries would do, but she had learned early on to ask for more than she needed and be prepared to bargain down to simply what would suffice.

  She considered again whether she had enough resources to take on this task, but after going through the information once again, she decided she simply didn’t have many options. An investigation and retrieval/attack on the DNA facilities needed to be kept low-key, for various reasons. It was not likely at all that she would receive a team of SAR troops to help her out, so she had determined that the next most helpful backup to have would be Loren, Merritt, Cory, and Web. They were pilots, not ground troops, but they had proven themselves very capable. Primarily, she needed people familiar with her and her situation whom she felt she could trust, and that list was only a few names long. She had Garrett, and had in fact already contracted with him for security services in anticipation of the meeting she was setting up. She was paying him a fee for securing the area, applying bribes if necessary, surveillance, and setting up escape paths in case things didn’t go well. He didn’t know who she was meeting, of course, but that was why she had included the bit about bringing a friend in her message to Loren- she wanted him to expect more than one person as a welcome wagon.

  She had no doubt her message would be approved. She had included every urgent marker and panic code she had in her messages, hoping that getting Loren and his bunch plus some support equipment would happen swiftly.

  She had checked her message buffer again moments before, sitting comfortably on the large couch in her apartment’s living room, but only saw with disappointment another reply from someone who was not Confed Intelligence. She had received a total of three messages from married men who apparently thought that she had a thing for guys who were attached. It would be easy enough to trace them and send copies of the messages to their spouses, and she fantasized about doing it at times. If they couldn’t keep it in their pants, their wives deserved to know, and they deserved better mates. The vigilante in her was squashed, however, by the covert operative, who seemed to think keeping a low profile was the most important thing she could do right now. Oh well, karma would catch up with them.

  Cory’s squadron held station off the starboard bow of Torino, along with Merritt and the Vipers. There were literally clouds of fighters swarming the staging area, with varying assignments. The fighters from Avenger were tasked with riding close support for Torino specifically. They were not to go free agent and leave formation unless the fate of the ship was at stake, for there were dozens of other fighters tasked with long range interdiction. Still, Cory felt robbed by escort duty. Merritt had gently reminded her that after some of the overly aggressive acts she had committed in her Intruder so far during the war, she had perhaps used up one or two of her nine lives and was deserving of a lower risk assignment once in a while.

  So there they sat, motionless in space, four Marine Assault Ships, five Confedera
tion class cruisers, and soon to be joined by a dozen Crusader class hunter/killers. Cory could see on her long range sensors the battle unfolding. The Primans seemed to initially be inclined to not change the orientation of their fleet, and just kept heading straight for the Confed Navy HQ. The Crusader attack had caused the Priman formation to shift a bit, but the strong attack by the approaching Third Fleet had finally forced the Primans to commit. They were now directly engaged with the Confed fleet, about halfway between the planet Delos and the asteroid belt where Confed Navy HQ was blockaded. Despite the slight advantage of Confed’s numbers, the battle seemed about even.

  A flash of light far off to starboard and a little low showed up on Cory’s scanners as the first arrivals of the Crusaders, Avenger among them. She noted with satisfaction that Avenger was showing only superficial damage on her datalink.

  She took a quick liberty with the comm system and keyed open a signal to Loren’s station in C3.

  “XO,” she said, as his face appeared on the screen, “good to see you made it back.”

  “Of course we’re back,” Loren said with a grin. “Where else would you park if we didn’t show up?”

  “Just so long as we keep that understanding.”

  “No problem. Looks like we’ll be moving out in about twenty minutes. Might want to take a quick nap,” he added jokingly.

  “I can’t. Merritt is already unconscious in his Talon. I’ll probably have to go nudge his ship to wake him up.”

  “He always was sort of a slacker.”

  It was finally time, Mithus realized with a sigh of relief. His communicator had chimed with receipt of a message, and it contained the codes for a countdown and a location. In ten minutes, he should expect to see his rescue force appear in orbit, and minutes after that he was to be ready at the extraction point.