The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (31 page)

“Shield strength is down,” said the Defense chief. “Though the exact level is in flux, I have been attempting to regain the shields and have gotten it to around one-third strength. As for the armor, it is mostly intact; however, it is compromised in a few places, mostly on the starboard side and the bow. The enemy could capitalize on that, should their beam weapons break through our shields.”

“Or if any missiles get through, or their gun crews prove to be expert marksmen,” said Ravinder. “Yaw to starboard, let’s show the enemy our port broadside!”

“Aye, aye, sir,” her people acknowledged, and the ship rotated.

“And our weapon systems?” asked Ravinder.

“Over eighty percent of our guns are online and functional, as well as about half our missile launchers,” said the Defense chief. “Obviously our beam weapon systems are inoperable and have been drained of all power.”

Most of the guns and half the missile launchers
, thought Ravinder.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was something at least.

“What about the forty-five capital ships from the Second Fleet; how are they positioning?” Ravinder knew that, since they were not under her direct command, she could not instruct them on how best to deploy, which limited her ability to coordinate with them. She only hoped that their local squadron commander was competent enough to order the ships to concentrate their fire on single targets, in order to eliminate these enemies in the fastest way possible—although forty-five capital ships and one dreadnought was hardly a match for the inbound force.

Still, Ravinder had to at least try and defend this position. Her people had died retaking it, and she would hate herself all the more if the defense formation collapsed again, along the
Victory
’s portside flank. So she hoped, somehow, someway, their force of forty-six ships in total could somehow defeat or repel the inbound hundred capital ships of the enemy. She doubted it, of course, but tried her best to stymie those doubts, knowing they would do her no good.

“The forty-five ships have deployed in a standard formation; all of them have maneuvered to positions that will allow them each to target the enemy,” said the Ops officer. Before she finished her sentence, the shooting began. First it came in the form of flashes, as the enemy’s beam weapons took a toll the on defenders’ shields, defenders who were unable to fire back, due to the phalanx shield, and the superior range of beam weapons to missiles and guns.

Ravinder fully expected the enemy force to come to an abrupt stop and continue the fight from there, safely out of range, forcing the defenders to either withdraw, or else charge out of formation in order to acquire weapons range for their own guns and missile launchers. However, the enemy continued its advance, whether out of poor strategy or simply not caring if it meant enduring extra losses—certainly they had ships to spare—but, whatever the reason, the enemy force charged into the defenders’ range of fire and, the instant they did, all forty-six ships, including the
Hyperion
, opened fire, sending a flurry of missiles in the direction of the oncoming fleet, as well as heavy fire from the main guns. She watched as the lead enemy warship, a battlecruiser, erupted into fragments of debris, and felt somewhat reassured now that she knew the other forty-five warships at least had the sense to concentrate their fire.

Unfortunately, so did their enemy. This led to an extensive exchange of fire, as enemy frigates and destroyers were rapidly picked off, but so too were the forty-five capital ships standing against them, alongside the
Hyperion
. Ravinder continuously got reports on the shield strength and the status of the guns and missile launchers and commanded her people which ships to focus fire on, all while keeping a vigilant eye on the tactical display and watching as the lights blinked out, one by one.

By the time the skirmish had gone on for about a minute, more than half of the forty-five friendly capital ships had been destroyed, with another ten badly injured. So much so that those ten began to withdraw and, angrily, Ravinder sent a message to their commanders, demanding they return to the fight and stand their ground. That was the least they could do. That was what the Third Fleet had done! But they ignored her order, or else pretended to sympathize, but claimed they were under direct instructions from Sir Doran to remove their ships from combat once they had reached such a state. And more of the rest of them followed suit. One by one, they were either destroyed by the enemy, or else attempted to retreat—three, which proved unsuccessful, were destroyed anyway. This continued until only the
Hyperion
, with its failing shields and many bruises, and seven other capital ships remained. For her part, at least, Ravinder had commanded the
Hyperion
to do everything possible to inflict death and destruction upon the enemy. And had achieved results, though the enemy still far outmatched them.

A few more seconds passed and the fighting continued, ever as heated, until the enemy abruptly stopped firing. It was strange; Ravinder had no explanation for it, and she ordered her gun crews and missile crews to continue to unleash whatever hell they could upon the enemy capital ships, whether they were shooting back or not.

“Sir,” said the Ops chief. “I’m getting new readings.
Lots
of them, hundreds of them.”

“New readings?” asked Ravinder. “What do you mean? Explain!”

“The enemy has stopped firing because they are deploying drones. Hundreds of drones. And now those drones are headed this way. They will be within our shield radius in…just a few seconds.”

Damn, just what we need
, she thought. Although the presence of enemy drones meant a likely decrease in fire from the enemy capital ships, which would not want to risk destroying their own drones, it also meant that the remaining defenders, the
Hyperion
and now only four capital ships, would have to divert some of their guns to deal with the drones, or else be slowly eviscerated by rapid attacks of the tiny pests, which could strike directly at the capital ships’ weak spots where the armor was gone, and needn’t worry about whatever shields any of the defenders could manage to raise. The drones would also be able to perfectly target the capital ships’ most vulnerable spots with far greater success than the enemy capital ships forward guns, which, though also impressively accurate, had a far more difficult time striking exact, tiny targets from range.

“The drones will negate both our shields and our armor,” said Ravinder. “We cannot allow them to hit us.”

“I don’t think we can avoid it, sir,” said the Ops chief. “There are far too many of them. And they are now inside our shield radius.”

“I confirm that,” said the Defense chief. “They have begun their attack. Damage detected on the outer hull, starboard side.”

“Where our armor is most compromised,” said Ravinder, knowingly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Defense, order our guns to cease firing on the enemy capital ships at once, and begin targeting those drones. I would see them all dead before they destroy this ship!”

“Aye, sir,” said the Defense chief. “Relaying order to the gun crews. However, if I divert all of the guns, we will be unable to intercept any inbound missiles from the enemy capital ships.”

Ravinder knew that was true and represented a similarly lethal threat. “Very well,” she said, “Divert three-fourths of our operational guns to the task of eliminating drones. Hold the rest in reserve, with orders to intercept any missiles that come within striking range of us.”

“Aye, sir, relaying commands,” said the Defense chief.

The battle continued in this fashion, the enemy capital ships occasionally striking them with their beam weapons, but otherwise holding fire, waiting as their swarms of drones slowly ate away at the
Hyperion
’s armor, and that of the remaining four other capital ships.

“Get a message to Sir Arkwright,” said Ravinder, “Let him know that our position here is about to fall,” she said. “Ask him to command more reinforcements to these coordinates. Otherwise the defense formation will break again, and the
Victory
will be exposed.”

“Yes, sir,” said her comms chief. “Relaying message.”

As the battle against the drones continued, and the Ops and Defense teams worked together to try and keep enough power in the shields to deflect the occasional beam weapon strikes, Ravinder watched the tactical display. It had adjusted its zoom to focus on their immediate attack range, and so she had a much better picture now of the battle surrounding her. The drones were too small to be indicated by lights, however the five blue lights, representing the
Hyperion
and the four allied capital ships, quickly became four blue lights. Then three.

It’s working, she thought. Despite all our guns, without fighter support, we cannot stop these drones. She suspected the
Hyperion
had so far survived purely by the fact that it had a superior outfit of armor compared to the other capital ships. It would take the drones longer to eat it away, but there was no stopping them.

“Sir, the drone strikes are too many,” said the Defense chief, as if reading her thoughts. “Our gun crews are attempting to destroy them or drive them off, but they are elusive targets and there are blind spots where we have no weapons coverage. At least as long as we hold so many of our guns in reserve for missiles that, so far at least, have failed to appear.”

Ravinder considered it. Perhaps the enemy did not intend to lock and fire missiles at the
Hyperion
and the lone remaining allied capital ship. Perhaps she was holding some of her guns in reserve for no purpose at all, allowing the drones to find spots to attack from which the
Hyperion
could not, or, at least, was not returning fire. Then again, if she commanded one-hundred percent of the operational guns to deal with the drone problem, she would be leaving the
Hyperion
exposed to missile attack, and it might not be possible for her to redirect the guns fast enough to intercept any missiles launched her way.

It was a dilemma. Or, at least, it seemed to be, until several alarms started going off, sending everyone on the bridge into an even more heightened state of panic.

“What is that?” demanded Ravinder.

“Hull breach,” said the Defense chief. “Deck four, starboard bow.”

“Make that hull breaches plural,” said the Ops chief. “My sensors show escaping atmosphere occurring in multiple places on the
Hyperion
.”

“I confirm,” said the Defense chief. “We have multiple hull breaches. Deck four, starboard bow, deck sixteen, portside stern, deck eleven, starboard side…”

“The drones are not relenting in their attack,” said the Ops chief.

“I am detecting further damage to our hull and armor at…twenty-six points. Another hull breach is imminent.”

They are shredding us apart, thought Ravinder. The
Hyperion
was a tremendously powerful warship, like a mighty bear, and yet it was being slowly and methodically executed by countless bee stings.

“Are the hull breaches contained?” asked Ravinder. “Or are we coming apart?”

“All affected decks report that emergency hatches have slammed into place and every hull breach has been contained,” said the Comms chief, whose staff were busy at their headsets, no doubt collecting reports from all of the
Hyperion
’s many decks. “Unfortunately there was no time to evacuate the affected areas,” said the Comms chief grimly. “The automated system has contained the hull breaches, for the time being, but an estimated seventy-nine crew and soldiers were lost.”

Blown out into space
, thought Ravinder.
What a terrible way to go
. A fate they all might share, and soon, if something was not done.

“Divert all of the guns,” said Ravinder, unwilling to allow her ship to be destroyed by these drones. “Command every operation gun and every gunner that their priority task is to eliminate those damned drones.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Defense chief, whose staff quickly got to work relaying the command to each of the gun crews.

“And what about the threat of inbound missiles?” asked the Ops chief.

“Do your scanners show any inbound missiles?” asked Ravinder, unable to keep a tone of annoyance from her voice, though her frustration was not so much with her Ops chief as it was with the whole damned situation.

“No, no, sir, I do not. Not at this time,” said the Ops chief.

Ravinder nodded. “Good. Should that change, alert me at once.”

This adjustment in tactics appeared to work; no new hull breaches occurred during the next few seconds, and her Ops chief was able to confirm that the number of drones attacking them had been reduced, and more of them were being destroyed by the second.

Ravinder put herself at ease regarding the drones swarming the
Hyperion
, at least for the moment, and redirected her attention to the force of enemy capital ships that remained not far away, still within weapons range, apparently watching as their drones did their dirty work for them.

Once we finish off these drones
, thought Ravinder,
how in hell am I going to deal with forty-something enemy capital ships? And all we are is one dreadnought and a
…she paused her thought, realizing suddenly that there were no longer two blue lights holding the position. Now there was only one. At some point during the fighting, within the last few seconds, the other capital ship had been destroyed. Leaving the
Hyperion
alone again. And this time no reinforcements seemed to be coming. She had sent her urgent recommendation to Sir Arkwright himself, asking for significant forces to be redirected to this position, but, by the fact that no reinforcements had arrived, and none could be seen on the tactical display, Ravinder took that to mean that none was coming.