Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Read online

  He walked to the front corner of the bridge where the communications officer sat, and put a hand on her shoulder. The Qualin officer looked at him and nodded sagely.

  “Lieutenant,” Captain Pencron said as he moved to stand beside her, “inform the Delos and the Fearless that they, as well as Captain Sosus’ Intruders, will attack the Priman element headed towards the starboard side of the Assault Ships vector. We will take the ships on the port side of their inbound vector.” Pencron watched the main holo display as the icon for his ship, the Formidable, continued straight on towards the ten incoming Priman ships. The Delos and Fearless angled out to starboard slightly as they aimed to cut off the Priman vessels that were attempting to flank the inbound Assault Ships from starboard. He saw the Assault Ship icons behind those of his three battleships, keeping pace and ready to hit atmosphere and ride the upper reaches of Delos’ stratosphere to pick up the dropships. At this moment, he felt like the crew of the Assault Ships had the tougher role to play. They couldn’t effectively fight back against a large number of Priman ships, and had to hope their speed, shields, and escort could keep them safe. At least Pencron and his crew got to fire back and make the Primans pay a price for their indiscretions.

  Cory’s face appeared on the side of the main viewer, Pencron having left instructions for any transmissions from her to be put through directly.

  “Captain, remember that talk we had about the odds earlier?”

  “Yes, I do, Captain Sosus. I feel that we’re being generous giving them such a fighting chance.”

  Cory’s concerned stare on the screen said it all.

  “Yes, Captain, I know it’s risky,” Pencron admitted, serious now, “but we’re outnumbered. We need the maximum amount of protection for those Assault Ships, and if the Formidable can keep an entire half of their force busy, it’s worth the risk and scorched hullplates. Besides, I know you’ll make quick work of yours and come help us clean up.”

  “Don’t save any for us if you don’t want to, Captain,” Cory finished. She saluted, then slid her faceplate down to make her suit airtight, ready to fight.

  Captain Salm, aboard the Summoner, watched as a lone Starshaker class battleship bore down on her force. The force commander had taken his ten ships and was attacking the main body of the Confed element, while she had been tasked with defeating the ship her sensors identified as the battleship named Formidable. While it was noticeably bigger than her cruisers, the overall tonnage advantage clearly favored her force.

  “Sensors,” she said, directing her comment to the crewman on her left. “Do you mean to say the Confederation commander is only sending one ship to engage us?”

  “Confirmed, Captain. The other two ships as well as the fighter cover are headed towards our other element to cover the troop transport ships.”

  Salm considered this for a minute. “I think we’re insulted, are we not?” She looked around and saw nods and smoldering looks from her crew as they looked at the holographic display at the front of the bridge. Her crew shared her opinion on this particular matter of honor. “Very well then. Direct all our fighter craft to join the other element and attack the assault ships. This lone ship means to keep us busy. Let’s see how quickly we can make them realize the error of their ways.”

  Captain Pencron studied the holo display up close, standing right at the edge of the shimmering virtual image at the front of the bridge. Abruptly he turned to his crew, adrenaline from the anticipation of the coming battle running through him. Time seemed to slow down, and he seemed to notice everything. He knew how many torpedoes he had in the ship’s stores, how efficient his shield generators were, which crewmembers were on top of their game and who he needed to give some extra support to. It was an amazing and privileged feeling, to be in the zone and ready for anything.

  “Weapons, set target numbers for all those ships, see if you can identify the command ship by it’s communications patterns and make that target number one.” Pencron said this as he strode from station to station, slapping a few shoulders along the way, something he unconsciously did when his brain was in high gear. Normally not a touchy feely or informal person, when things got rough he tried to make personal contact with everyone on his bridge, whether through a face to face question about how the person was doing, a handshake, or his signature move, the hand-clapping-on-the-shoulder.

  “XO, set us up for a run right down the starboard side of that formation, then let’s plan on circling around behind them to starboard ourselves and trying to keep us between the Primans and the Assault Ships. They’re moving slow enough for us to catch them again quickly; they probably figure on a nice, slow firing pass on the Assault Ships. We’ll start with all shields forward, then switch them to bias the engagement side as we pass the Primans. Let’s leave power to the ventral shields low and divert the energy to the rest of the system for now, but be ready to roll and bring back the shields when I call for it.” He directed this to his XO, a Qualin woman by the name of Commander Amaya Feraan. Whereas on the newer ships there was a separate C3 room to keep the Captain and XO isolated in case of damage, the Starshakers had no such space and were not refitted as such when they were returned to service. Their bridge space, however, was much larger than anything else Confed had, so the C3 apparatus was contained on the port aft side of the bridge. There was enough room for two rows of computer terminals and their attendant display screens, and in the opposite space on the starboard side of the symmetrical bridge were overflow stations for various ship functions that were a holdover from the initial service lives of the Starshakers. Modern technology had allowed for removal of a host of unneeded or redundant systems, allowing the XO to run the fighting arm of the ship from the bridge.

  “We’re ready, Captain,” Commander Feraan replied, and Pencron had no doubt she had already plotted the maneuvers, anticipating the need before he asked for it.

  On Avenger, Loren looked at the holo displays anxiously. He stood at his command station, fingers alternately drumming on the panel and gripping the edges in a white knuckled death grip. This was the part he hated- waiting. There was nothing he could do but wait until Avenger caught up to the battle ahead. He saw the icons of the Formidable, Delos, Fearless, Cory’s Warbirds and Merritt’s Vipers. And he languished in the fact that Avenger, even though she was the fastest ship in the area and was already outpacing the rest of Admiral Illam’s force, was still a relatively slow and unresponsive capital ship. He had to watch while his friends entered combat, and perhaps died. C3 suddenly felt very small and hot.

  “Sir,” the commander of C3 said to his right, jarring him out of his reverie. He looked at the woman, Lieutenant Commander Sarria Mastruk, a female Drisk whose athletic build and sharp features had probably distracted more than one fellow crewmember. She kept her jet black hair pulled back in the traditional Drisk high ponytail, and was as focused as anyone Loren had ever met. Luck had been with her on that day six months ago when an Enkarran torpedo had destroyed C3 and those in it; she had been sent to the main damage control station to help relay instructions from Marks, an act that had spared her alone among the C3 staff. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re trying to fly your console out of here.”

  Loren started to protest, then looked down and saw his left hand was balled into a fist, palm down, and was constantly moving back and forth as though he was adjusting phantom throttle levers.

  Loren allowed a fatalistic grin and chuckled once. “Just trying to make Avenger go a little faster, I guess. That, and wondering if I shouldn’t be out there instead of here.”

  Mastruk smiled back, knowing how he felt. She had noticed it early on in him, had in fact seen it in others. The progression took a while, but she could tell he was dedicated to his job. There was just that part of him that would always be a fighter pilot, no matter how high he rose through the ranks. She pinned him early on as a good commanding officer, and had every intention of helping out in any way she could.

  Loren was glad to have
his train of thought broken by the Commander. They were quite an odd couple, actually; pilots and attack center moles, as they were sometimes derogatorily called, tended not to mix often, but they had enough common ideas and methods to create a good working foundation.

  “Alright, let’s get ready to do something about it.” Loren said. “Lieutenant Commander, get ready to pick out a target, most likely the greatest threat to our Assault Ships. The mag-shield is at full, so the Captain plans to run some maneuvers to confuse their targeting computers, then we’ll unload with everything we have on that one ship and only change targets if another vessel becomes more of a danger to the Assault Ships. Hopefully the shield will buy us enough slack from their targeting computers to let us stay in it for a while. We should beat the rest of this element of the Ninth there by almost a minute according to the boards, so let’s get ready to have some fun.”

  Lieutenant Commander Mastruk nodded and turned, striding purposefully over to the weapons pit, as it was called. Loren could already hear her encouraging the gunners with long strings of cursing about the Primans and the various levels of Hell that they were about to get to see, intermixed with remarks about how she’d personally flatten anyone who didn’t make the most of their chances to kill Primans.

  Now there’s someone who loves their job, Loren thought with pride.

  Cory watched her display as she rode in towards the target vessel, Intruders of her squadron and Talons of Merritt’s tucked in behind her. She was leading just one element of several that were comprised of all the fighters that had been assigned to the Assault Ships. Roughly half had been held back as close cover, but she was out in front leading the charge, the place where she was happiest.

  “Alright Warbirds, we’re doing the new Starburst, just like we rehearsed. We’re going in on the far starboard side, targeting the last ship in line. The Delos and Fearless won’t target that ship, so it’s all ours.” She reviewed her data screens and saw the lines of approach her Intruders would take on the attack. Close behind were the Vipers under Merritt’s command, who would escort them in on their run.

  Cory’s comm system informed her of an incoming message from Merritt, and she keyed it onto one of her secondary screens.

  “You’re not calling to try and talk me out of this or any other foolishness, are you?” Cory asked Merritt with a grin that he wouldn’t be able to see through her reflective faceplate.

  “Wouldn’t think of wasting my time,” Merritt replied. “I was just thinking that after we meet up when you’ve finished your run, you could feint like you’re going right back at the ship. That might cause any pursuers that show up to throttle back and loosen up their vectors in case they don’t want to stray too far from their own ships, which would give us a chance to maneuver into a better position to defend that beautiful rear end of yours. Your squadrons, I mean, of course.”

  “And there’s people who say you’re just a handsome face.”

  “Only you know the many layers of my complicated psyche, dear.”

  “Alright, get ready then. Let’s go hunting.”

  Cory’s Intruder squadron, among others, bore down on their target ships. Because of their greater speed relative to the capital ships inbound, the fighters would be able to swoop around to the rear of the Priman formation and complete their run just as the large ships were arriving on scene. She saw the Delos and Fearless inbound at emergency reactor power settings, and also noticed with pride that Avenger was leading the charge from the second force and would join them shortly.

  Long range anti-aircraft fire started slowly reaching out to the small ships, though the distance and rate of fire were not a true threat yet. The squadrons loosened up and juked, trying to conceal their targets from the Priman ships. The Warbirds bore down, each with a Viper from Merritt’s squadron tucked in right above their tails, trying their best to create only one sensor signature instead of two.

  The Priman fighters began to arrive as well, the fast interceptors that the Primans seemed to field in greater numbers than any other small craft.

  On the bridge of the ship leading the Priman element headed towards Cory’s fighters, the remaining two battleships, and Avenger, Captain Canda quickly calculated the odds based on the numbers and typical Confederation tactics. The fighters would launch their torpedoes, perform their ‘starburst’ maneuver, and then perhaps regroup for strafing runs along the hulls of his ships. By the time that was done, the battleships would be at medium range, optimum for ship-to-ship gunnery. It would take a few more minutes for their stealthy ship Avenger to reach them, and that would require some attention as his crews were still not able to detect the shielded ship one hundred percent of the time.

  The good news was that in his favor were strength of numbers, more maneuverable ships, and the fact that at ten-to-one odds, the other half of his force would finish off the lone Confed battleship in short order. He was truly moved by the warrior’s spirit of that captain to face such odds to buy his comrades time, but also realized that the captain was throwing away the lives of his crew as well as himself. If only all Confederation, Talaran, and Enkkarran soldiers behaved thusly, his people’s mission in this galaxy would perhaps have been in jeopardy.

  His interceptors were almost upon the Confederation fighter craft now, and estimated that they would even be able to break up some of the enemy’s attack runs on his ships.

  Cory watched, helpless, as another Confed formation was torn apart by swarms of Priman interceptors. They were concentrating their numbers, and instead of trying to disperse all the formations with as few ships as possible, they seem to have picked a few and were using every last ship to isolate and destroy the Confed fighters. While this left a handful of Intruder/Talon elements to make their runs with only a few Priman interceptors each, it meant virtual annihilation to those pilots who were part of the unlucky squadrons and refused to break off.

  The Priman interceptors bore down, sweeping through one more formation, their high closing speed allowing them to make an initial pass without receiving any effective return fire. Most of the covering Talons abandoned their surprise maneuver and tried to defend their charges, but they were facing four to one odds. Eventually many Intruders dropped their torpedoes early, dooming them to an easy shoot-down by Priman point defense systems, and turned to fight as well, their lesser maneuverability balanced by the fearsome destruction their laser batteries and twin autocannons could produce.

  Finally, Cory could take it no more, and tore her attention away from the datalink images. Antiaircraft fire was picking up, and her squadron was nearing their launch point; she needed to focus. Priman interceptors had destroyed two of her Intruders and forced two of their covering Talons to break formation and pursue, but her pilots had been actually been fairly lucky. In placing herself in a lead formation, her squadron was actually a bit farther out than the later squadrons, and instead of attacking the leaders, the Primans were attacking those who were on convenient angles of intercept from their capital ships.

  Her targeting computer chirped- it was almost time.

  On Callidor in Velk’s situation room, things were uncharacteristically quiet. While one would expect the room to be abuzz with overlapping conversations, frantic calculating and planning, and the occasional barked order, Velk’s tastes were well known. The attending military advisors, his Representatives, and all their associated staffs knew to keep the volume conversational and ordered.

  Velk, for his part, was still projecting the outward organization and calm that he required of his subordinates. Watching the battle, however, made him want to repeatedly grab a comm channel and bark orders to his commanders both on the ground and in space. He had spent his time doing that, however, early on in his career, and now had to satisfy himself with providing overall direction while letting his commanders do their jobs. Still, his input was required on the occasional matter.

  He turned to Terir’s picture, where the Representative watched the battle from the outskirts of t
he Delos System. Terir had sent a databurst indicating he wished to report something to the Commander.

  “Representative Terir,” Velk asked, “you say you have a report?”

  “Yes, Commander,” Terir began. “We have received word from our ground commanders that the Senator was seen fleeing the area with a group of Confederation Marines. They boarded dropships and are headed out to space as we speak.”

  “You have sent the communication to our forces ordering our gunners to not shoot down any dropships?” Velk’s question was more of a command, a reminder to send out the orders that he had left in Terir’s care.

  “Yes, Commander. I reminded them of the importance of this, and was assured all will make it to their Assault Ships.”

  Velk smiled. Velk had levied orders that promised death for the offender and banishment for their family if anyone managed to shoot down a dropship leaving Delos. After all their work on the Senator and Ples Damar’s time invested, plus all the effort during the occupation to let the man send out his propaganda messages touting his return to the Confederation, it would not do to have that asset lost to a chance laser bolt at this time.

  “Can you confirm both Damar and the Senator are aboard?”

  “Our forces identified them both early on, but in the battle as it ended, we were not able to update our intel. I apologize for the lack of information, but all signs point to both of them making it aboard.”

  Velk thought about this for a minute. Their plans were very specific- they needed Ples Damar to keep rein on the Senator. According to Damar, the Senator was housebroken, but Velk didn’t trust Confederation politicians any more than he trusted his own.