Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (104 page)

“Back to your station,” Captain O'Shanasae barked, pointing to the man, then the seat. “Get back there or I'll put you down myself,” he said, one hand on his pistol.

The rating stared at him, eyes dropping to the pistol the skipper casually took out of his holster and laid in his lap. He gulped and then nodded and went back to his seat, nervously looking at the skipper out of the corner of his eye the entire time.

Red nodded to his XO, then looked at the tactical repeater. It didn't look good; they all knew that. Destroyers were screening units though; they were there to deflect or absorb the incoming fire.

So, he intended to do his job and damn anyone who got in his way.

“Red, they are about to break through the bombers. The bombers have just about evaporated. Get ready,” Commodore Eichmann said from his number two display.

“Aye aye, sir,” the captain replied dutifully.

:::{)(}:::

Vasili grinned as the fighters tore a hole through the outer layer. They didn't just tear a hole as much as tear it apart. None of the enemy fighters or bombers survived. His grin widened. “We've got clear skies, people. Let's make this count. At this speed we've got one pass. Make it a good one,” he growled.

His eyes narrowed and his grin faded as the surviving enemy destroyers moved in to cover the fleet train and capital ships. “Gamma Squadron, Delta, you've got the tin cans. Keep them busy. Alpha, Beta, you're on me. Let's hit ‘em where it hurts,” he said as he lined up on the factory ship, then jinked and settled on a distant but more appetizing cruiser.

:::{)(}:::

“Bombers and fighters are gone, sir. Just … gone,” a rating said in a subdued tone of voice. Bombers are launching now,” she warned.

“Very well,” Admiral De Gaulte said quietly, watching the plot. The die had been cast; he was a spectator. There was little he could do now to interrupt the enemy's attack.

:::{)(}:::

Commodore Eichmann cursed under his breath as the torpedoes came in. They lined up well outside missile range and fired. Each bomber carried four torpedoes, and they were spreading their fire between the fourteen surviving destroyers. Red immediately ordered the ship to go to evasive and begin spitting counter missiles.

He wasn't certain if it would be worth it or not. What he did know was that while his ship and the others fought for their own lives they were not protecting their charges.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

:::{)(}:::

Vasili grinned as his bomber and wingman got to the outer engagement zone and the bombardiers let loose. He kept their heading for a brief moment longer, just long enough to be sure the telemetry feed was solid and the torpedoes were off flying hot straight and true before he pulled away in a long bank.

He didn't see the destroyer turning away from the torpedoes Gamma had fired at it. He entered her outer engagement zone on her port side and her weapons lashed out. His wingman died first, the explosion buffeted his ship like a terrier with a rag. Then a second missile caught his ship's stern and flipped her into a fast tumble that the inertial dampeners couldn't hope to handle. They fried and he and his crew died without ever knowing how well they did.

:::{)(}:::

Explosions once more began to speckle the plot like leprous blisters popping. Ships twisted and turned and fired desperately to intercept the fire. Fortunately, only eight torpedoes were allocated to each of the ships.

Some ships did better at defense than others of course. The unarmed tenders were torn apart by the merciless ordinance. The two couriers managed to hide in the shadow of
Executioner
so they survived. The factory ship
Goibniu
was torn to shreds.

The speed of the Horathians and the overtaking bombers allowed them only one pass however. One pass with half a load of bombers. But it was enough to cripple some of the warships. The fleet train in the rear was far from just crippled though; it was torn apart.

The spread fire allowed the destroyers to better intercept the torpedo strike lined up on them but at the expense of a great deal of their counter missiles in the process. With little to lose, they fired them expansively, as fast as their launchers could handle. Some even fired them from their primary missile tubes as well.

But despite the all-out effort two destroyers took hard hits as torpedoes got through their counter missiles and point defense lasers to rip through their shields and up into their armor.
Daring
was one of the two, the squadron flagship fell out of line and formation in her death throws. The breacher round tore a diagonal tunnel through her guts, tearing apart the flag bridge killing Commodore Eichmann and his staff.

Red managed to pick himself up off the deck after the hit. He noted woozily that the emergency lights were on, glaring red leeringly like some brothel. “We're done for. Abandon ship!” the XO said, helping his skipper up.

Red leaned into the man, trying to get his bearings. He saw his pistol fly by and realized the gravity was already fading. “We've got to get to the pods, sir,” the XO said, slapping his skipper's visor down and then checking the readouts.

“Get him to the life pods. I'll oversee the evac,” the XO said, handing the skipper off to a rating.

“I'm all right,” Red said, trying to brush the helping hands aside. But something kicked loose nausea in his stomach, and he began to wretch in the suit uncontrollably. That took him out for a few minutes.

:::{)(}:::

Commander Adam Ramichov swore as his ship's status board turned red. Turned red in areas he could least afford to see damage being taken. His training took over as he, the chief, and skipper started barking orders to handle the damage control.

:::{)(}:::

Hasty evacuations allowed some of the crew on the doomed ship to get off. The plot was speckled with the beacons of life pods and shuttle craft. The shuttles did their best to get to the nearest ship and dubious safety. Some made it. Some didn't. They hadn't had enough time for their engines to warm up. Some of the ships found the supposed safety of the shadow of a looming friendly ship wasn't what it seemed. Frightened captains sometimes refused to lower their shields or speed to take them on.

“Daring
is a goner, sir. Commodore Eichmann is dead. The captain was evacuated. The XO is setting her self-destruct then he's bailing out in a pod since her shuttles are gone. I don't know where he's going to go, no one is around to pick him up,” Berney said. “Most of the fleet train has been obliterated. We've taken hits on
Last Gasp
,
Arkangel
,
Potemkin
,
Star Mauler
, and
Star Warrior
. The other ships got off lucky,” he reported. “
Arkangel
and
Last Gasp
are losing speed due to drive damage, sir.
Potemkin
and
Star Warrior
are also slacking their speed to deal with their own damage.

“Understood,” the admiral said quietly. He stared at the enemy bombers as they got clear of the fleet and then reformed. They had expended their torpedoes though, so they fell into an orderly withdrawal after a tense moment. The fighters quickly followed.

“They'll be back.
Star Warrior's
hit has made her chief engineer nervous. Her rating of the ship's hyperdrive is iffy. Admiral Adkin just called in and said
Potemkin's
is in a similar state, sir,” Catherine said.

Jeremy looked up in alarm. A pall of sick dread seemed to hang around the compartment.

“Damn it,” Myron finally muttered, breaking the silence.

“That's what this was about. They wanted to hurt us. To make us slow up and lick our wounds before we jump,” Admiral De Gaulte murmured softly.

“Unfortunately, it worked, sir,” Catherine murmured. “We can't afford to lose those ships,” she said.

“We can't risk the entire fleet for two ships, Commander,” the admiral said settling himself. “Pass an order to their crews. If they can't get sorted out soon, they are to abandon. My order,” he stressed.

Catherine stared at him, clearly appalled at the idea of abandoning two capital ships. He turned to look at her, to stare coldly into her eyes. She got the message. Slowly she nodded. “Aye aye, sir.”

Chapter 45

With the death of Commander Zenkov, the leadership of the bomber combined bomber wing fell to the senior most squadron leader.

That meant Lieutenant Tomar Katic; the senior surviving bomber squadron leader off of
Stinging Swarm
got the unenviable job of picking up the mission baton where his late boss had left off. Tomar did his best to get the bombers turned around on their carriers. The CAGs consulted as their squadron commanders handled the refueling and rearming.

“We've got one more pass,” Commander Meia said. She looked at the admiral. “After that you'll be in your outer most engagement zone, sir.”

“I know. Once we start mixing it up, you are going to be on defense. Commander Wilder, your fighters will rearm for that,” he ordered.

“Already in the works, sir,” the CAG replied with a dutiful nod.

“Good. I'm tempted to hold some of the bombers back for defense, but I want to hit them harder. Commander Garfield's assessment was that they hammered a few of the capital ships beautifully. Not enough to score kills but enough to really slow them down.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, do it again. Hit them hard and fast,” the admiral ordered.

“Aye aye, sir. We'll get it done.”

:::{)(}:::

Myron grimaced as the CIC rating turned to look at the admiral. He'd been expecting what she was going to say for some time. They all had. “Bombers and fighters are launching, sir. We can pick them up coming off their carriers at this range,” she warned.

“Understood,” Admiral De Gaulte said with a nod.

:::{)(}:::

The bombers had four fewer ships to go after, but seven of the bombers had been destroyed by the enemy fire, and another three had been down-checked by their plane captains as not flight worthy. That left three squadrons to go after the surviving Horathians. They were supposed to hit the undamaged or lightly damaged ships. Lieutenant Katic, however, assigned a single bomber to go after
Arkangel
. A single lucky torpedo strike cut through everything the battle cruiser's desperate defenders could throw to land a hit on her wounded flank. The torpedo's breacher round tore through the already half-powered shields and ripped at her hull before it died. The breaching round itself ignited its plasma lance and cut through the ruptured bowels of the ship. It bored in until it found a magazine area designated on her blueprints. The torpedo's final warhead went off with horrifying results.

The prince's ship was torn apart from the inside out as her missile warheads sympathetically detonated.
Arkangel
was destroyed with all hands.

:::{)(}:::

Catherine stared in stunned reaction as her brother's ship just exploded. The red light blinked around her name, and then the name changed to red lettering with a lurid red box around it. After a moment a notation went in beside it, crew lost with all hands.

Simple as that, she thought, turning, still poleaxed by what had just happened. Simulating it, planning it, that never compared to seeing it she realized. Seeing it for real, feeling the numbness start to settle in. She realized after a moment that she was getting sidelong looks from staff as well as the admiral.

“Do you need a moment, Catherine?” the admiral asked softly.

She shook her head. “I'll grieve later,” she said as more damage control reports came in from across the fleet.
Arkangel
hadn't been the only ship lost; four destroyers had been crippled, and another destroyed. She'd thought she'd celebrate her brother's death and her ascension to the crown but now she saw it as a loss. It was a cheap way to become the heir primus, but now she saw it as putting herself in the crosshairs, the last place she wanted to be.

:::{)(}:::

Prince Mason was too busy initially to see the change in the fleet status. It was only when a PO kept looking at him that he realized something was up. “What?” he demanded, wiping sweat off his brow. “Can't you see we're a bit busy?” he demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I just wanted to give you my condolences on your loss,” the PO said quietly before he retreated.

Mason frowned in confusion. He saw a DCC tech walking by with a tablet. He reached out and snagged it. “Let me borrow that.” She stopped and opened her mouth to protest but then stopped. She waited as he pulled up the status board.