The End of the Beginning
"This may be the right time," Rear Admiral Sandra Cleary said.
Hackett looked up sharply. Rear Admiral Cleary was the Alliance's top intelligence analyst. Well, the top surviving one anyway. She was also well known for being cautious. Too cautious in some instances, which is what surprised Hackett so much about her comment.
"Which OPLAN did you have in mind?" Hackett asked.
"Thunderbolt, sir."
"That's...a bit risky. A very bold proposal. Why do you think we should go with Thunderbolt?"
Admiral Cleary took a deep, weary breath. "The Reapers have had Earth under siege for a year now. They've outright killed about 10% of the population. Palaven, Thessia, and Sur'Kesh are in about the same shape."
"I'm familiar with the numbers, Admiral," Hackett said.
"Of course, sir, my apologies. But what's important is what they've been doing besides sieging the major homeworlds. The initial assaults went in against Earth and other homeworlds; afterwards, the Reapers split their fleets up into small groups and individuals to seek out minor colony worlds. Since they didn't capture the Citadel and all the races took great pains to control information, they're having to do full up surveys of all systems to locate our colonies. They're spread as thin now as they ever will be. Our only chance, over the long term, is to attack isolated Reapers in overwhelming force, defeating them in detail."
Hackett grunted. He stood and walked to the window in the briefing room. The window presented a grand vista of the planet Bekenstein, the Alliance's temporary capital until Earth was liberated. The beautiful vibrant green and blue of a living world, set against a starry background never ceased to humble him. These days, however, the stars were no longer friendly lights for him to ponder over. They were sinister things, many of them harboring monsters from mankind's worst nightmares. Thunderbolt called for him to lead most of the Alliance fleet in a circuitous route through Asari space, the Terminus systems, and into the Attican Traverse. A few colonies in the Traverse were under Reaper siege, but the Reaper presence there was fairly light. It was risky, as the Alliance fleet was one of the last lines of defense for the Citadel, and Bekenstein itself was humanity's most heavily industrialized world besides Earth. Losing either to a Reaper strike would be a catastrophe from which the galaxy would not recover.
Under normal circumstances, such a plan would be judged too risky. In these circumstances, different rules applied. Hackett had already come to the same conclusions Cleary had, but it was sobering to hear the counsel of desperation coming from her.
Hackett turned back towards Cleary. "I concur with your analysis, Admiral. Begin compiling a list of sieged colonies in the Traverse that may be suitable for Thunderbolt. I will speak to the Prime Minister."
"I feel this plan is ill-advised, Admiral," Prime Minister Amul Shastri said.
Hackett choked down a groan. Not nearly as ill-advised as sitting our collective asses while the Reapers devour everything and everyone in sight. "Sir, we have to try to stop the Reapers at some point. Retreating as we have done so far buys us time, but eventually we have to carry the fight to them."
"We should wait until the fleet is stronger," the Prime Minister said. "Our Terminus and Traverse colonies that have not been attacked have been able to funnel resources through Asari space to us here, and Bekenstein's industrial base has been using those resources to turn out warships faster than I'd have ever thought possible."
"That's true, Prime Minister, but we're reaching the point of personnel saturation," Hackett replied.
"Personnel—what?" the Prime Minister asked.
"You have to understand, that with Earth and several of our high population colony worlds either under direct Reaper attack or cut off from us, that the population pool we can draw personnel from is severely limited," Hackett explained.
"Ahh, yes, ran out people to draft, did you?" the Prime Minister snapped.
It was all Hackett could do to not slap the dumb bastard's teeth right out of his head. "We're at a point where if we take any more of the population into military service, we start degrading the civilian economy's ability to maintain the fleet we have. The next round of shipbuilding will alleviate this problem somewhat. The warships currently under construction will have fully unshackled AIs onboard, and will require far less crew. However, we're still in great need of fighter pilots, and AIs are unsuited to this job."
"I don't understand why, Admiral," Shastri said.
"AIs cannot simply be copied from one computer to another," Hackett explained. "Once one is installed on a quantum blue box, it requires an 'education', if you will, in order to be useful. It's really no different than how a person would attend college to be trained for his chosen profession. We've managed to reduce the time that education takes to around six months, and we've got ideas on how to speed the process up even further. The problem is that an AI's education has to be tailored to each individual AI. It's simply not cost effective to create and train one as a pilot as compared to training a human pilot. We hope, in the near future, to start replacing carrier-based fighter squadrons with unmanned drones controlled by an AI installed on the carrier itself, but that's still in development. Chiefly we're having problems defeating Reaper ECM that jams the control signals from our carriers to the drones."
Shastri stood from behind his desk. Hackett could see him calculating the political ramifications of a victory against the Reapers against a defeat. Of all the good people we lost at Arcturus Station, why did this slimy bastard survive?
"Do you really think you can defeat even an isolated Reaper force?" Shastri asked.
The truth was that Hackett wasn't sure. Nothing was ever guaranteed in war, but Hackett also knew if he told him the truth that he'd not be allowed to launch the operation. Launching an assault on the Reapers was a huge risk, but sitting on the defensive was certain death.
"Yes sir, I do," Hackett said.
"Very well, Admiral. Proceed with your operation."
Hackett's assembled officers rose to attention as he entered the briefing room. "As you were," he waved quickly. Taking the seat at the head of the conference table, he continued. "This will be our final meeting before launching Operation Thunderbolt. Our stealth recon frigate, the SSV Vienna, managed to gather the intel we'll need to make final plans and preparations. To that end, I've invited Vienna's CO, Captain Janice Renault to brief us. Captain, if you would."
Captain Renault was a petite, unassuming looking blonde woman. Her eyes, however, belied a keen intelligence and intuitive understanding of starship handling that made her so good at her job. "Thank you, Admiral," she said in a clipped British accent.
Captain Renault activated the holo-projector in the middle of the conference table. A detailed display of the Icarus system sprang to life. Manipulating a few more controls, the view zoomed in on the planet New Atlanta. New Atlanta was the rich blue and green of a living world. However, three very angry red dots on its surface marred the view.
"Alliance colony New Atlanta," Renault announced. "Population at the time of the Reaper assault was 1.2 million, with two-thirds of that population concentrated in three major cities: Barbour, Alexander, and Presley. It is in these three cities that Reapers have grounded and have been...attacking the population."
'Attacking' was far too mild a term in Hackett's opinion.
"Though the Reapers work slowly, we believe at this point that Presley has been depopulated for all intents and purposes, as the city's population was only seventy thousand to begin with," Renault informed the room. A shiver went down every person's spine. "Alexander and Barbour are believed to still house several hundred thousand residents each, but it's safe to say the majority have been indoctrinated."
Renault zoomed the display out a bit to show the system's mass relay. "The relay is gravitationally anchored to New Atlanta. 2nd Fleet will drop into the system only minutes, perhaps seconds from orbit."
"Passive lightspeed sensors, passive gravitics, and optical observation of the three Reapers themselves doesn't reveal much," Renault continued. "One of them is very similar in design to Sovereign. We have designated this Reaper Romeo One. Gravitic sensors suggest that Romeo Two and Romeo Three mass approximately twenty percent less than Romeo One. The Reapers' main systems were at standby power levels, and we were unable to gather any hard data on armament or defenses, although we have no reason to expect, at this time, that their combat capabilities diverge significantly from comparable Reapers. Every Reaper has a unique power signature and silhouette. These three are not listed in our database. We have not encountered them before."
Renault took her seat. "Thank you, Captain," Hackett said. "Based on the intel gathered by Captain Renault, I intend to go with Plan Gamma."
A dead silence overtook the room, which was finally broke by Rear Admiral Mikhail Ivanov.
Ivanov was a burly Siberian man that looked like he could frighten one of the bears of his homeland with little more than a glare. The big Russian commanded the 18th Scout Flotilla, consisting of fifty-four frigates. "Admiral, I would be remiss in my duties if I did not point out that Alexander and Barbour still have surviving civilian populations."
Another officer might have snapped at Ivanov for presenting information that his CO obviously already knew, but Hackett wasn't that sort of man. Every Alliance officer and enlisted person took an oath to defend the Alliance. Plan Gamma could be construed under some interpretations (albeit a rather stretched one) to violate that oath.
"I am aware of that, Admiral. This is the first time we've attempted to strike back at the Reapers, so this has not been an issue before. We all knew it was coming, and that a hard choice would have to be made," Hackett said. "Based on currently available intelligence, I have determined that cities with grounded Reapers in them are to be considered already lost."
Silence reigned. Plan Gamma called for the use of the fleet's weapons on any Reaper's still on the ground once they entered weapons range of New Atlanta. This meant the use of anti-matter warheads on civilian population centers. Many other officers might have solicited input from his subordinates, or sought guidance from his superiors. Hackett in his heart knew that any such seeking of advice on his part would be nothing more than a way to assuage his own conscience. Ultimately, a decision like this could only be made by whoever was in charge and, for his sins, that was one Admiral Stephen Hackett. He had refused to share the burden of this decision, choosing to bear it alone. It was more than one man could bear, but Hackett did it anyway. Someone had to. If it meant he lost his commission, so be it. If it meant he lost his soul, then it was the price he had to pay to defend his species from extinction.
"I understand Admiral Hackett," Ivanov said. "For what it's worth, I fully agree with and support your decision. You may have that in writing if you wish."
Hackett held up a hand. "That will not be necessary, though I appreciate your support." The Alliance fleet didn't have enough good senior officers left for a man like Ivanov to fall on his own sword, if it came to that.
Hackett changed the holo display, zooming once more on New Atlanta. "Plan Gamma calls for a swift strike to attempt to catch the Reapers on the ground. A standard trans-relay assault would have us going in with cruisers and dreadnoughts in the first wave. Reapers may be slow strategically, but tactically they are very quick off the mark. I think it's rather unlikely we'll be able catch any of them on the ground using a standard assault pattern. We need to change our plan. Suggestions? Admiral Sanderson?"
Vice Admiral Louise Sanderson was a tall, sharp looking brunette. She was also the 'problem child' on Hackett's staff. She had come up through the ranks as a hotshot fighter jock and carried all the talent and baggage that went with that. Her tactics were, at times, aggressive to the point of insanity, but she was no mindless berserker. She was the only other officer in the Alliance to have fought a battle to victory against a Reaper force. Her carrier battlegroup ambushed and destroyed a Reaper as it exited the Terra Nova relay two months ago. This is why Hackett had requested her for this mission as commander of 2nd Fleet's real firepower: nine of the new Nation class heavy carriers, and seven older, smaller dreadnought-sized carriers. Her battlegroup could put no less than 2,500 fighters and interceptors into space.
Sanderson spoke up. "What about a stealth transit?"
"No good," Ivanov said. "Normal warships do not mount sophisticated enough stealth systems to evade detection."
Sanderson replied in her heavy 'southern' twang. "I don't suggest we mask all our emissions. As you say, this would be impossible. We could transit the relay under strict emcon; most main systems would be inactive. Needless to say, our main drives would easily show up on Reaper sensors, so we'd need to build up some velocity before hitting the relay. This way, the fleet would continue on a ballistic course towards New Atlanta. The Reapers would know something transited the relay, but hopefully, the scarcity of active emissions would lead them to believe that only a small number of ships had emerged. With any luck, they'd not feel the need to lift off. Even if they did, perhaps only one Reaper would lift to meet us initially."
"I don't know about this," Vice Admiral Essam Mohammed said. Admiral Mohammed was tall, a medium olive color, and Arabian to the core. He was also a lot more cautious than Sanderson. Hackett had chosen him to be a counter balance against Sanderson's wild aggression. He commanded 2nd Fleet's twenty-four guided missile cruisers. The new guided missile cruisers were loaded to the brim with missile launchers and were optimized to engage an enemy from afar. This design change was made when it became apparent that nothing short of a dreadnought could take a hit from a Reaper weapon without being destroyed. Rather than futilely attempt to shield and armor cruisers to withstand Reaper weapons fire, they were redesigned to engage from outside Reaper weapons range. This sort of combat was well suited to Mohammed's natural caution.
Mohammed continued. "If we go in under strict emcon, our own systems will be largely offline. If the Reapers were to be waiting for us, we would simply be destroyed as we transited, unable to evade or return fire."
Hackett stroked his mustache. Mohammed had a point. Renault's observations of the Reapers suggested that she had successfully evaded detection. However, underestimating how devious the Reapers could be was a sure way to get blown to atoms. What if they had detected Vienna, and deduced what was about to happen? One or more of the Reapers could be waiting for them, weapons ready as they exited relay.
Mohammed spoke again. "What if we sent the Vienna in first under full stealth to confirm the Reaper's location? If we get the all clear, then we could proceed with a stealth transit."
"Captain Renault?" Hackett asked.
"The one issue I see would be communicating the all clear," Renault stated. "An FTL comm signal would undoubtedly be detected by the Reapers, as would a comm drone, since it does not have any stealth capabilities. We would have to return physically. Of course, there's a chance the Reapers could detect our transit back and lift off as 2nd Fleet began its assault."
"There's also a chance they detected you transiting out during your initial reconnaissance run, Captain," Mohammed pointed out. "They could be already be waiting for you."
"In which case," Captain Renault replied flatly, "we won't return and you will know not to launch the attack."
Admiral Mohammed stroked his well-kept beard. He clearly didn't like the idea of sending an Alliance ship into what could very well be certain death, but he said nothing more.
"Admiral Cleary," Hackett turned to his intel analyst. "Assuming an unfavorable drift of 2500km towards New Atlanta and that the Reapers started powering up the moment we exited the relay, could we have our engines online before the Reapers engaged us."
"It would be close, sir," Cleary replied. "The number of variables are too great to calculate precisely. There's a good chance we could be ready for them even if Vienna was detected transiting out. There's an equally good chance we wouldn't be."
Hackett's next decision could result in a great victory for the Alliance, or a crushing defeat that they'd never recover from. He wanted more than anything to be someone else, someone who didn't have to carry the weight of such a terrible decision.
Nothing is ever guaranteed in war, he thought to himself. We are never going to win by sitting on the defensive, just like I told Prime Minister Shastri. If only I felt as confident of that fact as I sound when I say it.
Hackett stood. "Alright, we'll send the Vienna ahead to scout the mass relay. Upon receiving Captain Renault's all clear signal, we'll begin transit. Admiral Sanderson's carriers will lead, followed by Admiral Ivanov's scout flotilla, with Admiral Mohammed's cruiser squadrons bringing up the rear. Our primary target will be any grounded Reapers. Admiral Mohammed's cruisers will bombard grounded Reapers with anti-matter missiles once we reach missile range of the planet. Once the bombardment commences, Sanderson's carriers will launch all their fighters and reverse course away from New Atlanta. If one of the Reapers manages to survive the bombardment, Sanderson's pilots will deal with them. Ivanov's scouts will hold formation on Mohammed's cruisers as escorts until ordered otherwise."
"Listen closely, people," Hackett said sternly. "This is not, I repeat, not, a suicide mission. This colony is expendable. If anything goes wrong, we're pulling out post-haste. I do not want to see a repeat of the loss of 4th Fleet at Arcturus Station." Admiral Oliver Devereaux had fought to the last man to defend the mass relay in Arcturus leading to Earth. Since then every Alliance officer had been itching for revenge. While revenge made a fine motivator, it could also inspire some stupid decision-making. He didn't actually expect any of his officers to succumb to that sort of thing, but he'd be derelict in his duties if he didn't bring it up.
"The attack will commence tomorrow morning at 0800 local time. I suggest you all get some rest."
Hackett sat on his command couch in his Flag CIC aboard the heavy carrier SSV United States. And he waited. It was the waiting that was the worst part. He did a good job of appearing relaxed and confident for his officers, but he was torn up inside with worry. Would the plan work? How many people would die in the attack? What were the odds that-
"Sir!" Admiral Hackett's comm officer shouted. "Vienna has made transit. She's squawking all clear!"
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Hackett replied. Hackett's agonized worrying drained away. No more waiting, the battle is joined. "Sound General Quarters. Execute Plan Gamma."
2nd Fleet was engulfed by blue-white light as the massive eezo core of the mass relay threw 2nd Fleet's ships three hundred light years in less than a second.
"Successful transit," Captain Benson, his flag captain, said.
"What's the status of the Reapers?" Hackett asked.
"CIC reports that all three Reapers are still grounded. Missile range in thirty seconds," Benson replied.
Hackett smiled a toothy smile. Caught the bastards flat footed!
"Sir!" Benson said. "Power spike in the Reapers' mass effect cores. Romeo One is lifting off!"
"Dammit!" Hackett spat. "Break comm silence. All ships go active! Activate fire control sensors. I want firing solutions on those bastards yesterday."
"Aye, sir," Benson said.
Hackett opened a comm channel to his battlegroup commanders. "Admiral Sanderson, launch all your birds now and reverse course back towards the relay. All other ships hold your course."
"CIC reports we've entered missile range of New Atlanta. We have firing solutions on all three Reapers. Romeo Two and Three are still grounded but are powering up. Romeo One will break atmosphere in 20 seconds," Benson reported.
"Admiral Mohammed, you targets are Romeo Two and Romeo Three. Fire at will," Hackett ordered.
Admiral Mohammed's cruisers wheeled 90 degrees to port, presenting their broadsides to the planet, and unleashed a tornado of anti-ship missiles. The blue streaks of eezo powered disruptor torpedos were interspersed with the orange-white drives of anti-matter shipkiller missiles.
A massive salvo of two-hundred forty missiles screamed down through New Atlanta's atmosphere like the Banshees of myth. 2nd Fleet's stealth transit had worked as intended; the grounded Reapers hadn't even had time to get their shields up.
Multiple megatons of cleansing nuclear fire erupted on the surface of New Atlanta, obliterating the cities of Presley and Alexander. However effective Reaper shields were, their armor simply was no match for that kind of destruction. Most of each Reaper vessel was vaporized; the parts that weren't were thrown miles into the atmosphere.
"Alright!" Hackett's comm lieutenant shouted, slamming a fist down on his chair's armrest to emphasize the point.
"Stow it, Lieutenant. This job's not done yet," Hackett chastized. Though Hackett had to calm the young man down, he certainly appreciated the Lieutenant's feelings on the matter, and agreed with them. I know you can die you sons of bitches, Hackett thought. But can you hurt? Did it hurt when those warheads seared you out of existence?
"All ships, reverse course away from Romeo One," Hackett commanded. 2nd Fleet could not outrun a Reaper, but as the saying went, a stern chase is a long chase. Moving away from the Reaper would give his fleet time to engage from long range before it got close enough to bring it's deadly main guns to bear.
"Admiral Sanderson, it's your pilots' turn. Make it count," Hackett said into his comm unit.
"With pleasure, sir," Sanderson replied.
The strategy 2nd Fleet was about to attempt had never been tried in actual combat before. It had worked well enough in simulations, however, simulations were never a substitute for actual trial in combat.
Reaper weapons were designed primarily to defeat other warships. However, hard experience and heavy losses had shown the Alliance that their main guns could be reconfigured for rapid fire use against fighters. Losses among fighter squadrons early in the war had been horrifying. In response, the Tactics Board had proposed new tactics to try to mitigate fighter losses.
Instead of boring straight in towards their target at maximum speed, Sanderson's squadrons formed up on Mohammed's cruisers. Admiral Mohammed's ships again unleashed a salvo of two hundred forty missiles, targeted on Romeo One. This time, however, only half of those missiles had warheads.
The other half were a mixture of decoys and ECM platforms. The decoys did their best to mimic the emissions signature of a fighter squadron. The ECM platforms were less elegant; they simply broadcast white noise jamming on every frequency in the electro-magnetic spectrum.
It was on the heels of this insane mixture of anti-matter missiles, disruptor torpedos, and electronic warfare platforms that Sanderson's pilots charged into close combat with the Reaper.
Romeo One clearly had not expected this. Defensive weapons that would've normally inflicted murderous losses on Sanderson's fighters were confused. Only sixty-one fighters were destroyed on approach to the Reaper. The other two thousand three hundred thirty nine fighters fired a veritable storm of disruptor torpedos into Romeo One's shield.
"Romeo One's shield is down to 30 percent strength," Benson reported.
Hackett's gaze snapped to Benson. "30 percent? That strong of a fighter strike should've disabled it's shields outright!"
"Yes sir, it should've," Benson said. "I guess this one got an upgrade."
"ETA to Romeo One entering weapons range?" Hackett asked.
"CIC reports that Romeo One will be able to engage us before Sanderson's fighters have rearmed for a second strike," Benson replied.
Hackett raised his commanders on his communicator. "Opinions?" he asked.
Admiral Mohammed spoke first. "Sir, we have already won a great victory. Two Reapers destroyed for the paltry loss of sixty-one fighters. I recommend we withdraw from the system immediately."
Admiral Sanderson spoke next. "I disagree. One more full strike with disruptor torpedos and we'll have Romeo One's shield depleted. A third strike with Thanix cannons should destroy the target."
"Admiral Hackett, we will be under direct weapons fire from Romeo One for too long while Admiral Sanderon's squadrons re-arm. Losses will be severe," Mohammed put in.
Hackett tended to agree with Admiral Mohammed on this one. However...what would it mean as a symbol to the Alliance, to the people under his command if finally, finally, the Reapers were pushed back somewhere? As important of a morale boost that would be, Hackett simply was not willing to suffer the sort of losses Sanderson was contemplating. He wasn't quite ready to to give up yet, though.
"Admiral Ivanov," Hackett said. "Eighteen of your frigates are of the new type armed with Thanix cannons. Do you think you could slow down Romeo One? Maybe strike at it's mass effect core or thrusters to reduce it's speed?"
"I...don't know, Admiral. Romeo One still has thirty percent of it's shield strength. If the last strike had taken out its shields completely, I'd be more confident. As it is...it's hard to say," Ivanov replied.
"What if we synchronized your attack run with a missile salvo from Admiral Mohammed's cruisers?" Hackett asked.
"I think that would work to keep some of the heat off my frigates. I can also split my ships into three groups and attack from several directions. This will guarantee at least one group will be outside Romeo One's firing arcs," Ivanov said.
Hackett looked up at the angry red contact on the holo display that represented Romeo One. Not today, you sons of bitches. Today, you are going to pay for the things you've done.
"Do it," Hackett ordered.
Ivanov's frigates reversed course and charged down on Romeo One like a pack of Piranhas. Ivanov's frigates attacked in three separate groups right on the heels of another salvo of missiles from the cruisers.
Romeo One was clearly getting wiser to the little trick that had been played on it. The ECM platforms in the missile salvo were less effective this time. Three frigates were destroyed outright and a fourth disabled.
It wasn't nearly enough.
The blue white streaks of Thanix cannon rounds hammered Romeo One's shield flat. Follow up Thanix cannon shots were joined by disruptor torpedos gouging deeply into Romeo One's hull.
"Romeo One's acceleration has slowed," Benson reported. "We have a problem, however."
"What is it?" Hackett asked.
"Some kind of secondary shield activated after Admiral Ivanov completed his attack run," Benson said. "CIC is calling it a biotic field."
"A what?" Hackett asked, incredulous.
"It appears to be a biotic barrier. It's not nearly as strong as the primary shield, but Sanderson's fighters probably won't be able to disable Romeo One without two additional strikes instead of one," Benson said.
"Alright," Hackett said. "We use our ace in the hole. Execute plan Leonidas."
"Understood, sir," Benson said. "I'm sure the corvette crews will understand."
"That doesn't make me feel any better about it," Hackett spat.
The mass relay activated once more and deposited a squadron of a dozen corvettes. Such tiny ships were normally used for customs patrols or convoy escorts. They were well suited to fighting pirates. They normally had no place in a battle like this one.
Each corvette carried six euphemistically named "demolition charges". These charges were simply anti-matter containers, similar to the anti-matter warheads used in anti-ship missiles. The difference between the charges and a missile warhead was one of degree.
An antimatter warhead of the type used on a missile only contained a speck of anti matter. Antimatter was difficult to contain in large quantities, but, fortunately, this wasn't generally a problem. Missile warheads required very little; the antiproton thursters used on starships required much more, but something the size of a ship could mount the necessary equipment.
These demolition charges were something else altogether. Each demolition charge had its own he3 reactor and eezo core dedicated to creating a containment field. As a result, each charge contained more antimatter than had ever been assembled in one place, in all of galactic history. Under normal circumstances such devices would be considered too dangerous to build, but these circumstances were far from normal. These charges were the sort of improvised, bitched up weapons that only got used in truly desperate situations.
By all rights, Hackett should've just retreated. Problem is, he wanted that third Reaper dead. The galaxy needed to see for themselves that the Reapers weren't invincible, and Hackett intended to show them just that,.
Sanderson's fighter squadrons once again attacked the Reaper under cover of heavy missile fire from the cruisers. This time, the corvette squadron followed them in. Romeo One had learned from the last exchange, and this time one hundred and thirty two fighters were destroyed, as well as eight of the vulnerable corvettes. As harsh as these losses were, they were far lower than an attack without an accompanying missile salvo would've been. The Thanix cannons of Sanderson's pilots once again struck hard against Romeo One's defenses. The biotic barrier was no match for the pounding Sanderon's pilots dished out, and it collapsed quickly. Rather than withdraw, the fighters continued to strafe the Reaper's hull with their mass accelerator guns, drawing fire away from the four remaining corvettes.
What seemed like hours, and all too many destroyed fighters later, the corvettes deployed their deadly munitions. One corvette was destroyed just before it could launch; the remaining three deployed their full compliment of demolition charges, each of which clamped on to the Reaper's hull like limpet mines.
"Ten seconds," Benson said.
"Sanderson, it's time for your pilots to be somewhere else!" Hackett barked into the communicator.
Fighters careened all over the place like out of control skycars, but succeeded in getting away from the Reaper. Six seconds later, eighteen anti-matter charges with an effective yield of 34,000 megatons each detonated as one.
The result could not be described as an explosion. Hackett prefered to think of it as an event. The event blinded every sensor in the entire damned star system. The holo display in his command center went blank as all external systems were blinded, and every exterior viewing port on the ship automatically darkened to preserve the vision of those that might be watching.
Once the glare subsided, silence reigned on his flag bridge. "Target destroyed," Benson said.
None of the corvettes survived the strike.
Hackett downed another shot of whiskey as he read over the final casualty and damage report. Technically he was always on duty and regs forbade him from drinking at all. At that moment, he didn't give a damn about the regs.
Nine frigates, two cruisers, twelve corvettes, three hundred seventy eight fighters. Two thousand, one hundred six killed in action, one hundred thirty one wounded. Heavy damage to an additional three frigates and two cruisers. One of the newer carriers, the SSV Great Britain, suffered moderate damage. This was worse than it sounded, however, as it would take the shipyards at Bekenstein a solid two weeks to repair the damage, and Hackett had no way of knowing when the next battle would be, or if the ship would be ready for combat by that time.
Worse than all this, however, was the 330,000 civilians killed in the bombardment of Romeo One and Romeo Two. Having soldiers, sailors, pilots, and marines die under his command was difficult enough, but everyone understood the risk of military operations and that casualties were inevitable. But civilians? Military deaths often haunted Hackett in his waking hours. He knew that these civilian deaths, on the other hand, would haunt what little sleep he got these days. He threw down another shot of whiskey.
All of this to destroy three Reapers. Given the size and cost of a Reaper, it was undoubtedly a very favorable exchange rate. Indeed, in any normal war this would be counted as a crushing victory for the Alliance. This war was far from normal, however. As it was, Hackett wasn't sure it was worth the losses to kill Romeo One.
However, Hackett wasn't sure it wasn't worth the losses either. They retook an Alliance colony. Granted, the surviving population was in bad shape, but the anti-indoctrination treatments were working, and the Alliance also regained control of the system's industrial assets, consisting of several asteroid mining outposts, a few eezo mines, and an orbital smelter. Anti-indoctrination treatments had a seventy-five percent success rate so, unfortunately, roughly one in four survivors would go ahead and die during the treatments. It was a hell of a lot better than the alternative, however. The Alliance had Commander Shepard, ExoGeni Corp, and an Asari commando who was, oddly enough, green instead of blue, to thank for it. Hackett was certain there was a story there, and he resolved that if he survived this war, that he'd have to get Shepard to tell it.
In any case, all the able bodied colonists, once they recovered, would be drafted either into service in the military, or into service in the shipyards building more warships.
While this was all welcome, what really mattered was that, for the first time, the Reapers had been pushed back. Hackett and his merry band had proven that it could be done. They had shown the galaxy that the Reapers weren't invincible gods of destruction and that neither humanity nor anyone else needed to bow before them.
Hackett would have to be more cautious in the future, however. He couldn't take the sort of losses he did today in every battle.
Hackett looked down at the final report on his datapad. The names of the dead scrolled by, each one mocking his inability to bring them home alive. He downed yet another shot of whiskey.
Hackett's comm activated. "Sir, Admiral Sanderson is here and requests to see you."
"Send her in," Hackett said.
The door to Hackett's quarters opened to admit Sanderson. She appeared to be about as drunk as Hackett himself, and her puffy, bloodshot eyes told him that she'd already been deeply mourning the loss of her pilots.
"Well, I see we've both been self flagellating," Hackett said.
"I suppose we have, sir," Sanderson said.
"Please, just Stephen. At least when we're both drinking in violation of regs to try to make the pain stop. Have a seat," Hackett motioned to a chair across from his.
"Then it's Louise to you and we'll call it good," she replied, seating herself.
"I'll drink to that," Hackett said, throwing down another shot. He noticed she was wearing a short sleeved crew shirt, and it revealed a rather intricate looking tattoo on the side of her arm. "That's interesting. Didn't know you went in for body art."
Louise lifted her arm to show the ink. It depicted bird-like feathers trailing backward. Hackett realized that it was essentially a depiction of a bird's wing, and that the entire tattoo was probably enormous, likely covering most of Sanderson's back, if it depicted a bird's wings.
"This old thing?" she said. "Got it back when I was a young and excessively stupid fighter pilot. I normally wear the high collared, long sleeve crew shirt to completely cover it these days. It's a depiction of an eagle's wings, covers a lot of my back and both arms. Seemed like a pretty cool thing when I was a hotshot pilot without any sense. Nowadays, it would communicate the wrong message to my younger officers, so I keep it out of sight. Sucks growing up, doesn't it?"
Hackett chuckled. "I had my crazy days as well. Didn't end up with any body art to show for it. Got a couple of really nasty scars out of it though. You ever think of getting it removed?"
"A couple of times. It's not as if it would be difficult," Sanderson said. "I guess it reminds me of who I was. I don't know, it's probably just foolish sentimentality. A reminder of times gone by, dominated by bad judgment and good fun. Those were certainly better times than now."
"I guess we didn't realize how good we had it," Hackett said. "You know, I don't think most people even know that they're living in a golden age, until it's gone."
"So, Louise," Hackett continued after a moment of silence. "Was it worth all of the death and destruction?"
"I don't think it was ever about what it was worth, Stephen," she said. "It was about what was necessary. I'm from New Atlanta, you know."
"Jesus Christ, Louise. I had no idea," Hackett replied.
"My son and husband lived in Presley," she said quietly. "I had hoped that maybe if we won this battle, I might find them, but...well, Presley was depopulated by the time we showed up. I'm sure that Ron and Randy had already been turned into...into..." she stumbled to a halt, unable to continue.
She wiped a few fresh tears away. "We did them a favor Stephen, when we dropped those anti-matter warheads on Presley."
"God in Heaven Louise, if I'd known-"
"If you'd known, you would've chosen someone else to command the carriers and left me at Bekenstein," she interrupted. "I apologize, I know I should've mentioned it. But I needed to be here. I needed to know. It's the not knowing that will kill you. I don't even have bodies to bury, but at least I know."
Hackett went to his cabinet, removed another glass, and poured a shot for Louise. "It's Maker's Mark. Genuine Kentucky bourbon, from Earth."
Louise tossed off the shot like an expert.
Hackett poured her another. "What were they like, your family?"
She smiled. "My husband, Ron, was an eezo miner. Roughneck, blue collar guy. New Atlanta has several rich eezo deposits. Hard work, eezo mining. Dangerous too, but it paid well and he always liked a challenge. He was the sort of person with a hard exterior and a soft interior. He was hard, but he loved our son more than anything. He was such a good father. Randy was a lot like his father. Tough-minded, but he took after his mother in that he wanted to join the Navy. He took all the difficult classes in high school, and was being fast tracked for admittance to the Alliance Naval Academy. He was so full of fire. He didn't want to lead an ordinary life, he wanted to do something that mattered. So, he intended to join the military. He told me he wasn't afraid to die, but that he was afraid that he'd grow old and die without having ever accomplished anything." She looked downward, looking so weary. "I hope he found a death he can be proud of," she whispered.
"If he was anything like you, I'm sure he did," Hackett said. He lifted his glass. "Ron and Randy."
"Ron and Randy," Louise whispered. They both drank.
"Unfortunately," Louise said, "they won't be the last."
"No," Hackett said. "But their sacrifice will not have been in vain. When I get done, the only place you'll ever find a Reaper is in hell."
Louise's eyes flashed with eager fire. Those eyes promised holy retribution of the kind that had not been seen since God erased Sodom and Gomorrah. "I'm glad you're here to lead us." She lifted her glass once more. "To the Reapers. May they burn in hell forever."
Hackett clinked his glass to hers and they drank.