ShipCore - Book 4: Chapter 195: Line Battle (Two)

USD: Thirty-Six hours and thirty minutes since hostile fleet incursion.

Location: Meltisar System, MNS Aegis Flag Bridge

The cruisers on the battle line slightly retreated as the targeted vessels accelerated, scraping together an extra fraction of a second for better targeting. All the ships in the unit simultaneously reduced their acceleration and executed a flip to face the incoming missile salvo with their bows.

Alex bit her lip as the maneuver sacrificed the precious distance between the fleets but enabled the fleet to withstand the attack with their strongest profile. It would only last for a few seconds but would cost them nearly ten percent of their gap, if they repeated the maneuver for the next two volleys it would risk their capability to avoid combat for long enough for the reinforcements to use the moonlet and wormhole.

She glanced at Admiral Parks. He had to know that as well.

Thanks to the A-Grav plating and inertial dampeners, the maneuver was almost imperceptible, but it strained the ship’s hull. Smaller ships felt the impact less, yet Alex noticed the alarming power spike from the system on the monitor. To flip the thirty-kilometer vessel like that took more power draw than the entire power plant the Shrike had been capable of sustaining.

Despite the missile defenses working at full capacity, the ship quivered intensely. A direct hit could devastate even a behemoth like the Aegis. Missiles that came close enough weakened the ship’s defenses through proximity alone. The AMCN missiles, designed as shaped charges, directed their energy forward. As long as they came close enough, some of their energy would hit the target.

Anti-matter stars briefly illuminated Meltisar’s First Fleet in a riot of colors as the ship’s D-fields engaged with the energy. Nameless had only a few seconds to react to the tactic of redirecting most missiles toward a few crucial targets. The ships activated their defenses automatically, and the fleet’s battleships’ double D-Fields surged to maximum power.

Alex could feel the strain in her head as Nameless tore every iota of processing their computronic modules were capable of providing to coordinate the entire fleet to reduce the incoming missile numbers before they overwhelmed the defenses.

Numerous PDC-Ls struck out; missiles exploded in a growing wedge as their formation shrank toward a single point. Misclassification doomed a few unlucky vessels; two cruisers and a destroyer vaporized under an assault they were never designed to endure.

Built for line battles, the battleships boasted thousands of PDC-Ks on their hulls. The Meltisar ships carried a variety of armaments, including armor-piercing, flak, and shrapnel-dispersing rounds, which created a visible cloud of munitions on the tactical screen.

The missiles’ final sprint lasted only a few seconds that could easily escape human perception. For Alex, time seemed to stretch, allowing her to analyze each frame of the tactical map update individually.

A fatalistic annoyance filled Alex. Was she going to get to watch their death in slow motion? She had done all she could; now, it was up to Nameless.

Tens of thousands of missiles had turned into thousands, then hundreds. One escaped destruction to detonate just in front of the Aegis’ double D-Layer field, carving a massive hole through the field and dumping the remaining energy into the inner layer. The ship’s lighting flickered, and the energy systems groaned under the strain, vibrating throughout the entire ship. Nervous crewmen waited for the damage control call, but the ship’s well maintained and cared for systems fought through the overload and remained stable.

A second missile curved in, only to detonate prematurely as it smashed into the rapidly reforming energy field. Several others detonated far too early, determining that they wouldn’t make it close enough for a direct strike.

When the last missile detonated a thousand kilometers off, the Aegis was unharmed. The ship and the rest of the fleet flipped back to continue their hard burn away from the enemy missile salvos and fleet.

The same couldn’t be said for all her compatriots. Across the fleet, a stream of damage control and emergency messages streamed across communications and Alex found herself deluged by calls for rescue and aid. The battleship MNS Defiance had taken a direct hit and was ejecting life pods as its drives flared out and died, the vessel signaling an abandon ship and self-destruct. Ten minutes for over ten thousand crewmen to escape.

The cruisers MNS Respite and Dauntless had both taken near misses that had slagged half their hulls, rendering them inoperable and half their life pods destroyed. Both of their transponders activated and signaled surrender as the crews worked to recover trapped personnel and escape before the ships scuttled themselves.

The fleet’s larger ships carried thousands of Rescue and Recovery shuttles for just these contingencies. Each one was unarmed and carried life-support for several hundred people. Their transponders were active and blaring out their callsigns and status as a rescue boat, but no one was one-hundred percent certain that the enemy would honor their purpose. The pilots and rescue personnel went anyway, though, determined to help their trapped brothers and sisters.

There were more life pods waiting, from ships that had been destroyed, but the crews had time to escape… or at least some of them.

Any ship that hadn’t been able to continue to burn away was forced to throw up a surrender and cut their power and prepare to scuttle in anticipation of enemy boarding or fire. In all the fleet had lost almost one hundred ships. Despite the number of losses, it was mercifully light compared to the amount of missiles that had been sent at them.

“Ensign, status?” Admiral Parks asked.

“Sir, R&R is en route to the Respite and Dauntless. The Defiance has signaled it has sufficient resources and small craft to mount their own recovery. Only their primary drive was taken out.” Alex reported.

The Admiral nodded. She wasn’t able to read his expression. The damage reports were still coming in from other ships across the fleet that had minor heating or damage from the missile blasts but were still operational. Most of them were reporting ready for combat, and the percentages across the fleet were rising rapidly as the ships gauged and prepared for the next missile volley.

“Focus on the PD telemetry links, Ensign. We aren’t out of the fire yet,” Admiral Parks ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Alex replied automatically.

She turned to look at the rows of icons denoting ships and their connections. Almost all of them were still green and rating at 100%, while yellow ones were rapidly ticking back upwards. A few damaged ships remained in the red as their damage controls rushed to restore communication and defense systems.

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The flag bridge buzzed with activity as flag officers continued to coordinate the efforts of the different line groups. Things became quiet again as the third missile strike entered its terminal phase. Long range laser fire and anti-missiles flashed out to meet it, but it quickly became apparent that the strategy for this volley was different.

Rather than focus on the battle line, the cloud of missiles re-targeted on the thousands of screening corvettes and picket ships. The faster vessels reacted almost instantly, flipping and burning hard toward their larger companions. The nimble ships were fast, but the missiles in their terminal phases had acceleration curves an order of magnitude higher.

The maneuver still got them closer to the shelter of the heavier cruisers and battleships, and PDC-L mounts flared with fury at the incoming missiles. Miniature anti-matter stars lit up across the fleet’s frontage as corvettes and destroyers failed to escape the onslaught.

Alex hissed as dozens of telemetry links died suddenly, their owners completely wiped out of existence in an instant. Yet the damage wasn’t one-sided. The sensor readout and data from their own first two strikes reaching the enemy fleet flowed into the combat tactical screen.

Admiral Parks had picked a more balanced approach to the targeting, giving the missiles free rein to pick and choose targets with the highest hit chances based on their own targeting data. It was less decisive, but Alex noted that there were dozens of surrender signals from the enemy ships, including two battleships.

There were even more enemy ships falling behind their main fleet, well over a hundred smaller vessels and dozens of damaged cruisers. Some had turned to limp back toward the jump point, while others had lost all propulsion.

There wasn’t enough information available to tell which fleet had gotten the better of the deal, and the results of the 1st Fleet’s 3rd volley hadn’t arrived yet. There was almost two minutes of light separation between the fleets, and that meant delays to information flow.

“Wall formation. Put our lighter elements above and below our center,” Admiral Parks ordered. Nameless confirmed the formation, too busy counting the incoming missiles of the fourth wave to analyze the best placement for ships. The fleet’s captains knew what they were doing, however, and a well-dressed line of warships formed before the entire line pivoted together to face the last deadly charge.

The volley arrived with all the fury of the previous ones, despite being slightly smaller. That was helpful, but losing ships meant there were less point defenses and fewer targets for the missiles to choose from. The effects were still small, but another several hundred ships were knocked out of the fighting.

“Damage report!” Admiral Parks barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of alarms and chatter.

Alex scanned the data flooding her console. The color-coded status of each ship in their fleet blinked back at her – green for operational, yellow for damaged but combat-capable, red for critical damage or destruction. More red than she wanted to see. “Two battleships down, sir. The Courageous and Vermont. Multiple cruisers with severe damage.”

The admiral’s face hardened into an unreadable mask as he absorbed the news. He turned away from Alex and began issuing orders to other personnel on the bridge.

Their trials were over, however, while the Imperials would be receiving their fourth strike in the next few seconds and then the Admiral’s gambit of a fifth. Nameless immediately began organizing the R&R teams, but Alex realized everyone’s attention was snatched by the tactical monitor.

The enemy fleet was passing by their first wounded and surrendered ships. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. One by one, the damaged ships cut their telemetry links as was standard. Those connections would be detectable with the enemy fleet between them and the damaged vessels, and while the improved sensor data would have helped determine the damage dealt by the fleet, it wasn’t worth continuing for two reasons: the enemy would attempt man-in-the-middle network attacks, and they would have reason to strike the wounded vessels down.

Alex wasn’t sure how true the first reason really held true, while Nameless was in control of the fleets primary networking there was little risk that any other NAI or other type of network attack would be effective, as long as they didn’t gain physical access to the Aegis. Still, the second risk was real.

There was an audible sound of relief on the bridge when the imperials declined to wipe out the life pods and surrendered ships.

Alex turned her attention to the readouts revealing the damage sustained by the Imperials, but a chime signaled a message from the 3rd fleet. She pulled up the communique when her heart lurched at the sight of the other fleet’s tactical telemetry. Everything was delayed, but it showed the Ertan fleet making a cold launch.

It was impossible to count the size of the missile salvo from their distance, but the estimated numbers were terrible for the 2nd and 3rd fleets, anywhere between five and thirty times as many missiles as each of the salvos that had come from the Imperials.

Alex skimmed the message from the third fleet. Admiral Bithermoore reported the strike and estimated heavy casualties, but that the fleet intended to continue with the plan.

Alex reported the information to Admiral Parks.

He frowned and nodded. “Keep me apprised, Ensign.”

She nodded and followed the data, leaving the rest of the crew to deal with the 1st Fleet’s recovery efforts and damage control. The first thing she noted was that the 2nd and 3rd fleet hadn’t been chosen to face the Ertan fleet randomly. While the 1st fleet boasted most of the modern, updated, and heavier warships, the 2nd and 3rd fleets were relatively lighter, composed of mostly fast raider-class battleships and cruisers.

The message had warned of heavy damage, and at first glance, she had thought that it would be catastrophic. Both fleets diverged from each other away from the hostile swarm of missiles, dividing it in half. The rate of acceleration was certainly higher than the 1st Fleet was capable of, and both fleets punched over the 0.4c barrier that made targeting inefficient and inaccurate.

That confused her until both fleets began to decelerate after the missile salvo had come closer. The extra speed had bought them a small but useful amount of time, draining the missile’s propellant tanks, and worsening their telemetry with the Ertan fleet.

It wasn’t enough to escape completely, and there was an inordinate number of missiles targeted across the two fleets, but it gave her hope that they might not be as badly scathed as indicated.

Before the light of those results could reach them, a chime sounded, drawing Alex’s attention back to the tactical monitor. A frown creased her face. The Imperial Fleet was falling back slightly, dressing their ranks. The amount of damage from the 1st Fleet’s five salvos had disabled or destroyed a considerable number of ships.

Nearly ten percent of the enemy was inoperable and had fallen behind. It was a bit more damage than the 1st Fleet had taken, but not by much.

But the plan called for them following deeper into Meltisar’s gravity well, further from the jump point. Admiral Parks looked at her and mirrored her frown. “Ensign, any idea on what they are doing?”

He was asking her? There were plenty more experienced heads on the bridge, but she bit her lip and looked at the sensor readout.

[Informative: Analysis indicated enemy fleet formation rearrangement.]

Oh. He wanted Nameless’ expertise, not hers. She repeated it and he nodded. “I’m afraid your plan might need to be hastened, Ensign. Send a priority message to FHQ to expediate, if at all possible.”

“Sir?” Alex blinked, then looked at the tactical plot again. Something had gone wrong; the ETA timer for contact had started to count down instead of up. The Imperial Fleet had begun to accelerate further. Past the redline.

A nervous lieutenant called out, “Admiral, MNS Gregory reports its section can’t speed up any further!”

It was the same across the fleet. There were enough damaged ships they’d have to leave behind several hundred if they wanted to accelerate faster. Admiral Parks shook his head.

Alex frowned. “I don’t understand. They are already topped out on velocity.”

Parks shook his head. “They are going to rush us. They’ve already left behind all their damaged ships to limp back to the jump point. They are going to pour on speed until they catch us, take the beating we give them on the way in, and then hard decelerate to engage us at point blank.”

Alex blinked. “They’ll lose. They can’t win like that.”

“They will. They haven’t done enough damage to us to change that outcome, and they’ll be easy targets until they bring themselves down to speed. But they will survive to contact, and they have enough ships left that we will be bloodied, and quite well, I imagine,” Parks explained. The man pulled out a pipe and then filled it before lighting it.

Alex wanted to yell at him, that there was no smoking permitted on the bridge, that their plan was falling apart, and that they couldn’t afford to lose the 1st Fleet here.

She eyed the mission timer. Two hours until Thea had promised the Moonlet would be ready.