BCS Samuel Hood,
Britannia System
The impact of the pair of White Shark missiles, fired by the Lola III, barely registered as the Hood's heavily armoured hull easily absorbed the damage. Its forward class 55 naval lasers carved deep scars in the bow plating, but had little effect. The Essex quickly joined in, as if eager not to be outdone by its companion. It began firing ranging shots with its Barracuda launchers and medium NPPCs, some finding their target, others not.
"Hardly seems sporting, two against one, does it, sir?" asked Adept Melanie Slade, standing at her post by the navigation console.
Calderwood stared at her for a moment as if she'd gone mad, before realising she was attempting a joke to try and lighten the mood on the bridge. "I couldn't agree more, Adept Slade. The pop-guns those destroyers carry will be a nuisance at best".
He raised his voice a little more to make sure it carried across the bridge. "They're obviously terrified of us if they're sending their escorts in to harass us first", he said, nodding at the on-screen image of the McKenna. "They're big, but apparently not very brave".
He turned round to get a quick glimpse of the holotank. The Lola III was closing in rapidly, ahead of the slower Essex. The former was swinging to port, while the latter kept to starboard. They were clearly hoping to catch the Hood in a pincer attack. It didn't worry Calderwood unduly. Their relatively light weapons would have a hard time punching through the battleship's heavily armoured hide, while the Hood's broadside batteries would cripple them, if they got close enough.
'Time to say hi to our guests', he decided.
"Weapons, target the Lola with our forward batteries….let them know we care".
"Aye, sir!" called the weapons officer, clearly relieved to finally be allowed to retaliate.
A volley of eight Killer Whale missiles streaked towards the enemy destroyer, slamming into her starboard bow, shattering armour plating, but not punching through.
Several minutes and four exchanges of missile volleys passed before his next call. "Sir, she's in range of our main batteries!"
"Fire as you bear".
A muted roar vibrated through the hull, like the sound of low-flying fighters, as the Hood's forward pair of heavy naval gauss rifles fired. For good measure, the gunners manning batteries of medium naval PPCs and class 45 lasers added their weight to the barrage.
The sensor operator had brought up a zoomed image of the Lola on a secondary display, just in time for everyone on the bridge to witness the destroyer's starboard bow being torn open like a tin can. The pair of massive gauss projectiles obliterated the remaining armour, while the lasers ate into the ship's internal structure, visible only by the damage they inflicted. The flickering azure beams of the particle cannon, played over the bow, destroying weapon mounts and damaging the superstructure. Cheers erupted from everyone on the bridge, except Calderwood, who was still too intently focused on the battle. The celebrations became wilder as an explosion in the destroyer's bow tore open a huge hole in the top side. The huge vessel, which displaced nearly 700,000 tons, visibly staggered under the devastating blow and immediately began to turn away, keeping her damaged section away from the Hood's guns.
BGS Bismarck,
Britannia System
Demi Precentor Truscott watched the scene unfold on the Bismarck's main viewscreen in disbelief. "Blake's blood! What in the name of the Sainted Jerome could cause that kind of damage?"
The robed figure glided silently over to stand beside Truscott, making him jump when it spoke. "It seems our heretic brethren invested a great deal of time and money in upgrading her armament. Those were heavy naval gauss rifles, if I'm not mistaken. Her missile and energy weapon complement appear to have been significantly upgraded too".
"It'll tear the Divine Justice and the Sword of Truth apart if we don't intervene!"
"Follow their lead", said the figure, nodding at the viewscreen as over a dozen smaller craft streaked from each destroyer, homing in on the leviathan that lay between them, "Launch the fighters and assault dropships".
"As you wish, sir".
BCS Samuel Hood,
Britannia System
"Sir, I'm picking up multiple new contacts. Both destroyers launching fighters! Multiple contacts from the McKenna. It's launching…Jesus Christ, it's launching dozens of fighters. Two larger contacts - looks like they're sending dropships too!"
The cry from the sensor operator brought the jubilant mood on the bridge to an abrupt end.
Calderwood didn't hesitate for one second. "Notify Flight Ops – I want all fighters airborne immediately!"
The Executive Officer sat rigidly, gripping the arms of his seat with white-knuckled fingers. Of course, it would take several minutes for the Hood's complement of aerospace fighters to clear their bays and engage the enemy. Until then, she was on her own. All over the battleship's hull, automated pulse laser turrets went into overdrive as they tracked and engaged the looping and diving Blakist fighters. Anti-missile systems were switched to full-auto mode, allowing them to track and destroy inbound enemy missiles.
The Hood shuddered repeatedly as the damaged Lola covered her withdrawal with her batteries of large-calibre naval lasers and light autocannon. The faint thunder of explosions announced the detonation of several Barracuda missiles. Suddenly, a light-grey shadow streaked across the main viewscreen.
"Fighters!" yelled the sensor operator. "They're from the Lola! Transponder codes don't match anything in our databanks. Whatever they are - they must be pretty damn new!"
Calderwood suppressed the urge to snap at the Acolyte. "I'm sure the Blakists have been hard at work developing all sorts of new toys since we left. It doesn't really matter right now…all we've got to do is slow them down enough until our forces planetside are ready to give them a warm welcome".
"Uh, sir…" the sensor operator's voice was much more subdued this time. "I'm picking up over sixty…that's Six Zero fighters inbound from the McKenna".
There was a moment's silence on the bridge and Calderwood briefly weighed up the chances of the Hood's twenty-four fighters against a combined force over four times as large.
"Order our fighters to engage the craft launched by the destroyers. If they can draw them away…that'll leave us free to take on the McKenna's fighters", he ordered.
"Uh, sir", said Slade quietly, "That leaves us facing around five fighter squadrons, with no air cover".
"Not to mention the pair of assault dropships headed our way", said Ross grimly. "Look at it this way…if I ordered our guys to engage the McKenna's fighters, they'd be outnumbered nearly three-to-one and the high risk of friendly fire would mean we couldn't help them. In any case, we'd still have the dropships and the fighters from the destroyers to worry about. At least, this way we can throw everything we've got at them without worrying about shooting our own people".
Adept Slade conceded the point with a nod and a resigned sigh.
"Hangars report all units airborne, sir!" called the Fighter Control Officer. "Alpha and Bravo are going after the Lola's fighters; Gamma and Delta are engaging those from the Essex".
"Very well". The fire directed at the Hood slackened considerably, but Ross knew it was only a temporary reprieve.
The minutes ticked by and the sensor operator counted down the range as the large formation of enemy fighters, with the two assault dropships in their midst, closed the range from the McKenna to the Hood. By maintaining a few hundred metres' distance between each other and making continual, minor course changes, they made it almost impossible for the Hood's gunners, manning her capital class weaponry, to get any clear shots at them.
A few of the laser gunners, manning the "55s" scored hits, that were part luck, part skill, but for the most part, the small, sleek grey craft advanced rapidly and ominously, like a swarm of angry hornets.
Closing to weapons range, which was also inside the minimum range of the Hood's main guns, they began to open fire. The majority of them appeared to be armed with gauss rifles, extended range particle cannon and long-range missiles. A smaller group broke away and accelerated closer to the massive battleship.
"Blake's blood", muttered one of the crewmen as a swarm of over two hundred long range missiles leapt from the racks of the farthest group of fighters.
Calderwood saw the danger immediately. Knowing that individually, their weapons would have little effect against a heavily armoured leviathan like the Hood, the pilots were concentrating their fire on specific areas of the hull.
Unfortunately, there was little he could do about it. The ship was in the wrong position for her aft-mounted screen launcher to have any effect and the enemy craft were still outside the range of her automated defences.
The sensor operator turned in his seat, his face a mask of worry. "Sir, I have two hundred and forty missiles…that's Two Four Zero missiles inbound".
"Thank you, Acolyte", replied Calderwood, much more calmly than he felt. "Sound collision alarm and brace for impact!"
A barely audible, whining noise could be heard as half of the Hood's sixteen AMS turrets began to track the inbound missiles. The whining was punctuated by short bursts of high-pitched buzzing as they spewed forth a torrent of high velocity slugs, designed to detonate missile warheads. As the bridge crew watched the main viewscreen and various secondary displays, they saw blooms of fire blossom and vanish as missiles detonated before finding their target. However, a mere eight AMS turrets were never going to be enough to stop them all and the better part of two hundred missiles impacted on the Hood's port flank in a concentrated pattern, obliterating much of the armour protection from the bridge to the midsection.
The impact of the missile barrage made the battleship lurch visibly. Anyone and anything not securely strapped down was sent tumbling in slow-motion as she rolled several degrees to starboard.
The McKenna's fighters gave them little respite, following up the missiles with a salvo of particle cannon and gauss rifle fire. The charged particle beams ate away the remaining armour protection in dozens of locations, allowing the gauss slugs to tear into the ship's internal structure, destroying entire compartments. Klaxons sounded on the bridge and throughout the rest of the ship. In the damaged sections, automated airtight doors hissed shut to maintain the ship's hull integrity.
Calderwood felt his blood turn to ice water in his veins as he realised he'd completely underestimated the threat posed by the enemy warship's fighters.
"Damage report!" he barked, knowing it would be bad, but needing to know exactly how bad.
"Sir, we have hull breaches on decks seven through fifteen. Thirteen compartments are venting atmosphere but they're being evacuated and sealed off. Two anti-missile systems are off line and four pulse laser batteries. Sir, another hit like that to our port side could finish us".
Stingray F-92,
2km off Swift Justice's Port Bow
Adept Orwell Croft gave a whoop of elation as the last of the enemy fighters vanished in a ball of flame. "Nice shooting, Sam", he called to Adept Samara Miles, flight leader of II-Bravo.
Miles pulled off a snappy victory roll by way of acknowledgement before levelling out and allowing the rest of her unit to form up on her.
The enemy fighters from the Lola had been intent on harassing the Hood and had completely failed to notice the twelve Stingrays of II-Alpha and II-Bravo, respectively known as the Red Kites and Ospreys, arcing up at them from underneath the battleship. With the twin advantages of surprise and superior numbers, two enemy fighters had died before they knew what hit them, a third falling to the Hood's pulse laser batteries. The remaining three fled towards the cover of the destroyer's guns, but never made it, as the Coalition fighters were every bit their equal in speed and manoeuvrability.
It was time to bring his own unit to heel, "Red Lead to all units, reform into elements and follow my lead. That destroyer is hurt pretty bad. With a few concentrated volleys I think we can finish her off. Approach from the bow and she won't be able to bring much weaponry to bear against us".
As he listened to the acknowledgements over the radio, he brought up a magnified view of the crippled Lola. He let out a low whistle as he surveyed the gaping holes in her hull and forward superstructure. Whatever compartments had been opened up had long since lost their oxygen and the fire resulting from the forward magazine explosion had been extinguished. The massive warship was leaving a trail of debris behind her as she limped away from the scene of the battle and Croft guessed her crew's main priority would be damage control. He was also counting on the majority of her weapon stations being unmanned or out of action.
"Alright Kites, time to finish the kill!" he called over the radio.
He allowed himself a grim smile as one joker in the unit responded with a raptor screech.
"Follow my lead. We'll make our attack run from bow to stern. Priority targets are the bow, bridge and engines".
After getting acknowledgements, he followed up with a word of warning. "Remember people – watch your threat indicators. Just because she's damaged, doesn't mean she's not dangerous".
The twelve Stingrays formed up, the two flights making a double arrowhead formation, with Croft and Miles at the tip of each. As the range closed to under a kilometre, one of the Lola's starboard capital class lasers discharged. Nearly invisible in the vacuum of space, its faint ruby glow lanced into the formation, but failed to find a target. It was followed moments later by the brilliant azure beam of a particle cannon, which reached out with its lethal, flickering caress.
Orwell cringed inwardly as he heard a cry over the radio cut short and suddenly dissolve into static.
"Keller got hit! That PPC just…vapourised him!" called one of the pilots from the rear of the formation. She sounded slightly panicky and Orwell couldn't blame her.
They were in optimum range for their weapons now…unfortunately they were also now in range of the destroyer's remaining anti-fighter defences. A flurry of faint ruby darts began peppering the fighters as the Lola's pulse laser batteries opened fire, prompting cries of alarm over the radio.
He selected a private channel and called his counterpart. "Ready Sam?" he asked.
"You know me, Oz", she replied. He could hear the steely resolve in her voice.
Switching back to the Level II frequency he gave the order to attack, "Red Lead to all units, commence attack runs. Tally ho!"
Croft pushed his stick forward, sending the Stingray into a fast dive. His fighter was taking fire, but not enough to be a worry. Lining up on the ragged fifty-metre hole in the destroyer's bow, he tied his extended range particle cannon and large lasers to the primary trigger. His aim was true and he saw the energy beams penetrate deep into the ship's unprotected interior. With little visible indication of damage, he could only hope his shots were wreaking havoc deep within the ship.
Seconds later the bridge was rapidly rushing to meet him. He hit the forward thrusters, decelerating hard, but he'd left it too late and all he could manage was a hasty snapshot that scarred the superstructure, before executing a hard roll to the right to avoid slamming his craft into the ship.
Miles, following close behind, had the benefit of observing her colleague's run and the fact his unit was attracting most of the enemy's fire. Slowing her fighter, she executed a more graceful dive, unleashing a full alpha strike on the destroyer's bow. Slowing her Stingray still further, she caught the dull glow of internal fires, deep within the ship's interior and saw more debris begin to drift from inside the hull. Focusing her crosshairs on the wide, low bridge, she impatiently counted off the seconds as her weapons recycled. Firing just her main weapons this time, she gave a snort of frustration as her particle cannon and large lasers only managed to scar and blacken the bridge structure.
"Okay, we've marked the target for you – now let 'em have it!" she called to the rest of her unit.
Making their runs, singly or in pairs, the other nine fighters strafed the crippled warship. More explosions from inside the hull and gouts of flame provided visual proof of the success of their attacks. As the last pair made their run, the starboard side of the bridge imploded, before ejecting a fountain of debris and more than one unfortunate sailor.
The radio net was cluttered with cheers as the pilots celebrated.
"Alright people, well done, but stay focused. Now we go for the engines. Form up on me and remember to stay clear of the ion streams, unless you're looking to develop a very unhealthy suntan", Croft ordered as he banked his fighter sharply to starboard, executing a hundred and eighty degree turn. Glancing briefly to his right, he saw the rest of the squadron sweeping past to form up behind him. The complete absence of harassing fire from the destroyer told him the crew were too busy trying to save their ship.
'Too bad your efforts will be in vain', he thought grimly as he climbed high over the destroyer's stern, cutting his speed sharply and pushing his stick forward, standing the fighter on its nose. As his crosshairs centred on the armoured cowls protecting the Lola's main drive, Croft tied his main weapons to the primary trigger and fired.
He wasn't surprised to find his salvo had little, if any, effect on the destroyer's heavily armoured hide. The only truly vulnerable points were the drives' exhaust ports, but targeting them would mean riding in the dangerous, high-energy plasma trail vented by the ship's engines…not something any sane person would wish to contemplate.
Croft cut his forward thrusters, engaged his fighter's main engine and darted away, allowing the rest of the squadron to begin their attack runs. Slowly but surely, successive volleys of fire ate away the Divine Justice's weaker aft armour. As the last Stingray made its run, Orwell swept his fighter round in a tight turn to begin another run. As before, he cut his engines and engaged the forward thrusters, once over the warship's stern. This time, the near-invisible lances of his lasers and the azure whiplash of his particle cannon disintegrated the remnants of the cowling and ate into the engines themselves. With the drives' protective thermal casing damaged, the superheated plasma vented in uncontrolled bursts from the ruptured exhaust ports. As the engines began to disintegrate, the plasma began to eat away the ship's internal structure. A chain reaction of explosions tore the stern apart, as though it had been rigged with demolition charges.
The air aboard the ship was quickly consumed by the fires and replaced by the vacuum of space. The lifeless hulk drifted out of control, trailing debris and dead bodies in its wake.
As Adept Croft looked on from his circling fighter, he saw a number of lifeboats and escape pods burst from within previously unseen recesses in the ship's hull.
"Some of the bastards are getting away…lets go after them!"
The unknown pilot's cry brought a chorus of agreement over the radio net.
"Red Lead to all units, that's a negative. They no longer pose a threat so we will let them go. In any case…"
His response was interrupted by a transmission over the command frequency. "This is the Hood to all aerospace units, we are engaging a large number of enemy fighters and require immediate assistance".
The speaker paused and in the background, the sound of distant explosions could be heard.
"I say again, we are under attack from massed enemy aerospace units and are taking heavy damage. Assault group includes two dropships. Request immediate…"
The rest of the message was drowned out by another explosion and dissolved into static. Orwell's heart leapt into his throat and his stomach lurched. Suddenly feeling nauseous, he issued a curt order to the rest of his squadron. "You heard that, ladies and gentlemen. The Hood needs our help…lets go".
Without waiting for a response, he brought his Stingray's nose around and pushed his throttle to the stops.