Retribution (The Federation Reborn Book 3) (29 page)

“Our turn is coming, you bastards,” he murmured softly, eyes intently staring at the plot and willing the enemy to slow and come into his waiting arms.

:::{)(}:::

Admiral White regretted not having missile pods. They were packed away in the bowels of the munition colliers. In order to get to them, the crews would have to shift a lot of the ordinance around, which wasn't safe. Since each ship was stuffed to the bulkheads, it was perilously dangerous. He couldn't afford the risk.

He'd expected the Horathians to make up some ground when his ships had gone ballistic a day before but they'd held off. He knew they had to have some speed in reserve but he wasn't certain how much. He'd intentionally pitched end over end to throw them off and perhaps get them to misjudge his timing. By keeping the timing to the last minute, he knew he was keeping the bridge crews and flag officers on the enemy ships on edge in anticipation. That was fine with him.

He glanced at the clock, and then to his staff navigator. The human male seemed to feel his brown inquisitive eyes on him. After a moment he turned to his admiral.

“Sir, ready for the burn,” Alec said quietly.

“Then let's do so, Alec. On your order,” Admiral White said. Alec nodded and returned his attention to his station. He murmured softly, passing the orders to the other ships.

On the dot the ships of TF2.1 and her fleet train reignited their cold engines slowly. After a moment they throttled up to a full burn.

They were now slowing down and facing the enemy juggernaut, inviting them to catch up in a show down Amadeus wasn't certain his forces could win, or even survive.

:::{)(}:::

“About time,” Sedrick grumbled. “They waited a while longer than I would have,” he said.

“Which explains why you are where you are and not in their shoes, Sedrick,” the admiral said tartly. He'd gotten some rest but not a lot. He was still getting used to the concept of a battle lasting so long. Days and days of waiting—he had plenty of patience but even his had been tested to what seemed like his limits. And now the battle was about to heat up. “We can hold our pitch and braking burn for what, another hour?” he asked, glancing at his navigational officer.

“Two if we want to make up the ground we've lost. Three if we don't mind overshooting the jump zone, sir,” Lieutenant Jeremy Herod, his staff navigator replied. “But that would mean we wouldn't be able to immediately chase them into hyper. Any that escaped I mean, sir,” he said hastily.

The admiral grunted but didn't reply. At least not right away.

“We'll be in extreme engagement range once more in … seventeen minutes, sir,” Catherine reported after glancing at the clock on her internal HUD for confirmation. “Do you still wish to hold our fire?”

The admiral nodded. “Commander Zakhan, your people are going to get the first licks in.”

“We're ready, sir,” the CAG replied. “We just need a target.” He left unsaid the need for more ordinances. His bombers had burned through most of
Nimitz's
short supply of torpedoes. He'd begged and pleaded with Commander Ramichov and Commander Yashanaka to let them resupply, but it was not to be. They'd have to go with what they had on hand.

“We're taking a page from their playbook. We're going to go after their screen but concentrate our fire,” Admiral De Gaulte said as all eyes fell on him. “You read me, Zakhan?” he asked. “I want you to rip a hole in their defenses.”

“Aye aye, sir. We'll pick a few out as a down payment,” the commander replied.

“Good. Don't get cocky—in and out fast,” the admiral ordered. “Keep your fighters on task, Commander.”

“Aye, sir. We'll get it done.”

“You've got a lot to prove. Get on it,” the admiral ordered, closing the link.

:::{)(}:::

The moment when the chasing fleet entered extreme weapons range came and passed. A few sighed in relief, but Amadeus knew better. When the bombers showed up on the scopes, Admiral White's people went on alert.

Commander Meia saw the bombers coming and ordered the reserves launched to help fend them off on her own authority. Admiral White saw the order passed and silently assented to it. He had done some rethinking after a discussion with Commander Meia and the other CAGS. The fighters assigned to the warships would act as defenders since they were best suited for the role. Commander Meia would take on the interceptor role while Commander Zenkov was held back with the bombers. Commander Wilder would oversee the defenders from
Kittyhawk
and coordinate between the interceptors and the defenders.

Admiral Spruance
lacked a CAG since medical had stuck the critically injured Lieutenant Commander Z'r'll into stasis for the time being. She'd also lost her senior-most squadron commander, and the other three were green with little experience at commanding more than their own squadron. They'd also received their most recent promotion at the exact same time, which made time in rank a matter of seconds.

Since they didn't want to sort out the chain of command and had different roles to play anyway, Meia had divvied the wing up between herself, Zenkov, and Wilder. She'd been tempted to pull the ships from
Admiral Spruance
to fill in the voids of the other squadrons, but she'd fought the temptation. It wouldn't have helped much and none of them had trained together.

Instead Zenkov took on the bombers while she took the
Raptors
. Wilder would have her hands full overseeing Squadron 1's
Cobras
while Squadron 3 was detailed to Zenkov to cover his bombers.

When the counter hit zero, the interceptors launched first. They would fly into the face of the enemy fighter squadrons and draw them off allowing Wilder's defenders a shot at the bombers.

Unfortunately, this time they couldn't launch drones. The defensive platforms had exhausted their limited stock of small counter missiles. They had been recharged and serviced, but the admiral deemed it not worth launching and losing them.

It was a pity; they could use the fire power. Something told Meia that the admiral would revisit the decision when they needed the extra defenses in the near future though she thought just as her fighter launched.

:::{)(}:::

“Avoid the
Nelsons
and that new ship class. Focus on the
Arboths
. They've got thicker skin, but they aren't set up for fleet defense,” the commander growled.

“But sir, the
Nelsons
, shouldn't they be the priority? They'll play
Aegis
later,” Lieutenant Ashton reminded him.

“Don't argue with me! I know what I'm doing. Leave the
Nelsons
and that other ship class alone like I said. We need to focus our fire like the admiral ordered.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

:::{)(}:::

“They are going after the
Arboths
and avoiding the fleet defenders,” Kyle reported, looking up from his station.

“It makes sense. They may not know what sort of fire power the
Fletchers
have. And they don't want to tangle with the
Nelsons
since they are on fleet defense. It'd take a hell of a lot of fire to saturate their defenses,” Jojo stated.

“Agreed. Order them to cover their sister ships then,” the admiral stated. He'd expected a feint, for the fighters to come dashing in for his screen then turn and go for his limited number of cruisers but they hadn't. Apparently their last encounter had taught them some caution. Caution was good.

“Aye aye, sir,” Kyle replied.

:::{)(}:::

Lieutenant Nezier wasn't nearly as eager to go on the mission as he projected. He knew the importance of projecting a positive front though, and he definitely knew it was important not to show his fear. Not just to his subordinates but also to his superiors. The CAG was like a caged animal; he had torn strips out of the surviving fighter pilots. Nezier's bombers had fared better but only a little. They hadn't scored a single kill, which hadn't set well with the CAG either.

Now it was their chance to strike. Overconfidence was the thing of the past. He watched the fighters take point, then peel off in various directions as they worked to avoid the incoming missiles and energy weapons while also drawing attention away from his bombers.

Each of the bombers wasn't so weighed down as before. They carried three-quarter loads, with the last hard points holding extra ECM and decoy packages. They still maneuvered like stuck pigs in molasses, but it was better than running full up and bloated with fuel.

“Coming up on point Bravo. Still with me?” he asked, glancing over his left shoulder to the fighter riding beside him. It was a new tactic, keeping a single squadron in tight with the bombers all the way in. The fighters would play defense, tangling with the enemy's second tier of defenses and keeping them off the bomber's back. That was the theory anyway.

“Good. Let's do this,” Lieutenant Ashton growled.

“Right,” Nezier said, eying the plot.
Cobra
fighters filled his path. “Looks like we've got the gauntlet, but I don't see any defensive drones. I think they are holding them in reserve this time. We may have an easier time of it,” he said.

“Don't bet on it,” his copilot muttered as the
Cobras
began to cycle off missiles into his face.

His people were ready for it though. His bomber came equipped with two turrets, one dorsal and one ventral. He angled the bomber to give them each the best cone of fire and let them at it.

While they did that, he and his copilot as well as the wild weasel fighters popped off ECM buoys, flashbangs, and chaff bursts to blind the enemy.

:::{)(}:::

“They've improved,” Hurranna growled as she noted her missiles being spoofed or intercepted well of their marks. The shrapnel from their explosions wouldn't do more than scratch the paint at the distance the enemy was picking them off.

“So have we. Conserve your missiles,” Commander Wilder ordered. “Let them fire off their decoys and munitions. They'll leave them behind in a moment.”

“Aye, ma'am.”

“Looks like they are going for the Second Destroyer Squadron.
Eagle
and
Hachimaze
aren't exactly spry,” Lieutenant Darling said. She managed to stitch a bomber at long range. It trailed smoke and debris, jinking wildly until Darling caught it again on the nose and walked the fire through the cockpit and down the flank. After that the ship tumbled dead in space.

Bombers and fighters clashed as the bombers crept ever inward, pressing to ram their missiles home. Hurranna was pulled off to tangle with one of the fighters. Her absence and the absence of her wingman opened a small gap in the defender's forces.

“No, but their teeth are still sharp,” Commander Wilder retorted. “I think they'll wait and get to the halfway point … bugger that! They fired! DD 2 you've got incoming!” she barked.

“We see it,” a rating replied tautly. “Get your people clear of our firing line now!”

Commander Wilder cursed as she frantically used her hoarded missiles to try to cut the enemy's ordinance down as they started out in their early boost phase. “On it,” she said, pulling her people out of the engagement zone so the ships could fire their counter missiles.

When she checked the scope, she noted she had managed to score three despite the snap shot. Ordinarily she'd be proud of the achievement. Somehow something told her it wouldn't be enough.

:::{)(}:::

Once their missiles were away, the bombers pulled up and away as sharply as their small inertial dampeners would allow as the defenders turned their attention on the incoming strike missiles. That momentary distraction allowed the surviving to quickly clear the battle space. When they did so, the surviving wild weasel flight disengaged and withdrew as well.

Meanwhile their 108 missiles ran at just a quartet of
Arboth
class destroyers.
Eagle
and
Hachimaze
spat answering fire first since they were closest. After a moment
Warrior's Creed
and
Endymion
followed suit.
Bounty
managed to get one volley of counter missiles off from her location before she lost the angle and range.

Eagle's
fire suddenly slacked and died unexpectedly. “What the hell happened
Eagle
?!?” Commander Wilder demanded as she turned her fighter back.

“We lost our starboard flank radar and LIDAR due to some damn hiccup! We're taking the feed from
Hachimaze
, but it's going to be close!” the rating replied anxiously.