Part 14
It's of an American frigate the "Richard" by name
Mounted forty-four guns, and from New York she came.
A-cruising down the channel of Old England's fame
With a noble commander, Paul Jones was his name.
-- traditional, 1779
"Okay, people -- listen up!"
In the Chaffee's gym, Dick stood looking out over the assembled pilots. The group was too large to fit into the pilots' regular briefing room, and a make-shift area had been created in the gym. It had none of the fancy imaging equipment of the other room, so Dick turned on the overhead projector.
"As you can see from this chart, they've divided up the space around the enemy station into quadrants. The McCain has this one," he said, pointing to one quarter slice. "Lady Lex has these two, and this one's ours."
Like the Chaffee, the John S. McCain was a "jeep" or escort carrier; the Lexington was a full-size fleet carrier with more than twice the fighter strength of the smaller ships.
"We'll be going in two waves," Dick continued. "I'll be leading Divisions One and Four; Andy will have Two and Three. We will keep rotating until the Ch'ton's Home Fleet shows up, at which point we will break off to form an apparent retreat back to the ship. In case you haven't figured it out by now, it's gonna be a long day."
Dick put on a transparency showing a close-up of their quadrant. The planet Ophidia was at one corner; the military station was at the other. Around the planet, he had drawn two wide rings, one red and one yellow.
"I want to remind you again, we are not attacking the planet itself. Accordingly, Waterloo Yellow," he pointed to the yellow, outer circle on the overhead, "has been set at 30,000 miles from Ophidia; Waterloo Red is 20K. If you get inside 10K, the Bugs will be the least of your worries -- just go ahead and let the enemy kill you and save me the trouble." He stared down the few pilots who laughed because they thought he was joking.
He turned off the projector and held up a piece of paper. "I have a memo here from Admiral Cortez's staff. They want me to tell you to avoid being too aggressive because they are," he continued in a slightly sing-song tone, "'concerned that such action might cause a premature state of panic among the enemy and precipitate an early retreat.' Okay, I've told you."
Dick took the paper in both hands and ripped it in two. "Now my instructions to you are to fly the same way you always do. Except for Rabbit -- you should fly better." While the rest of the room laughed, he winked at Lt. JG Wesley "Rabbit" Matthews, who was one of the best pilots in the squadron and was Dick's own wingman.
"You let Andy and me worry about this," Dick said, holding up the torn memo. "If you hear one of us order you to pull back, you are to disengage from the enemy as safely and as quickly as you can. And don't give me any crap about 'Just a few more minutes.'" He leveled a mock glare around the room. "Your mother didn't buy that excuse, and neither will I."
He gave them a few moments to absorb everything while he looked around the room, trying to catch each man or woman's eye to gauge how he or she would respond to the coming fight. "When you get right down to it, this is a simple mission: take on the enemy, look out for your wingman, and don't go into Waterloo Red. So don't do anything stupid, all right, people? When this is over, the only letter I want to write is a nice, long, steamy one to my wife."
~~~~~~~~~~
Dick and his Barracuda sat poised on the launch deck, waiting for Commander Harrington to give the word that the ship was in position. He looked at his picture of Barbara in her bikini and grinned. She had utterly refused to send him a new picture now that she was starting to "show." When he had told her that he wanted the picture to make the whole baby thing seem more real to him, she had written that she was enduring enough reality for both of them. He had briefly entertained the notion of enlisting either Dinah's or Tim's help in getting a picture taken anyway, but he decided the potential fallout of Barbara's wrath wasn't worth it.
He sighed. Wasn't the Skipper ever going to give them the signal? He hated waiting. As if his thoughts had conjured her, he heard her soprano voice in his ear.
"Dick?"
"Yes, Skipper?"
"We're in position. You may launch when ready. Godspeed, Commander."
"Thank you, ma'am!"
Unlike pilots flying off surface ships, fighter pilots in space had neither gravity nor oceans to worry about, so there was no need for a steam catapult to send them flying off the deck, going from zero to one hundred sixty miles per hour in less than three seconds. Under normal, non-combat conditions, space fighters could leave the ship at a leisurely pace and accelerate once they were clear of the airlock. In combat conditions, however, it was vital that ships be launched as quickly as possible, so fighters left the space carriers at something approaching the speeds used by their seagoing brethren.
Dick signaled Rabbit and brought the power levels on his fighter up to launch levels. After a few moments, he double-checked his instruments and saluted the airlock officer -- the signal that he was ready to fly. The outer airlock doors sprang open, and Dick and his wingman bolted out of the ship with enough acceleration to push them deep into the seats of their cockpits.
Once the entire wave had launched, the twenty-four ships streamed off toward the large Ch'ton military installation. According to reconnaissance information acquired for the attack, the sprawling complex was a loose conglomeration of colonial defense forces, fleet repair and refit facilities, and a large-capacity shipyard, all approximately the same distance from Ophidia as Mars was from Earth. The Chaffee had been given the quadrant that included the repair and refit yards. No matter what else happened, Dick had his eye on destroying that facility.
"CAG, I've got lots of bandits on my scope already!" called out Lt. JG Carson "Hogan" Clinkscales, one of the pilots out on point.
"Dodger didn't exactly sneak into the system, Hogan," responded Lt. Thomas "Christmas" Greentree, referring to the Chaffee by her nickname now that they were safely out of the captain's hearing.
"Yeah, but I didn't think they'd send this many," retorted Hogan.
"How many bandits, Hogan?" interrupted Dick.
"I'm counting ten, ... twenty, ... thirty, ... almost forty fighters, Skipper!"
Since the Chaffee had made no attempt to disguise her entry into the system, Dick wasn't surprised when they met the first wave of the Ch'ton defense forces while still several hundred thousand miles away from the base. The number of fighters seemed rather odd, though. It was very unusual for the enemy to send their entire fighter complement against only one section of the attacking force.
"Okay, people, looks like we're going to have more of a fight than we thought," Dick said calmly. "Just keep a cool head, and take it by the numbers. Stay with your wingman and lead your targets away from the main force."
In the dark cockpit, where none of the other pilots could see, Dick grinned to himself. Now came the fun part! He felt the exhilaration and anticipation he always felt as he entered a battle. It was as if the rest of the universe slowed down, and he was capable of any feat, no matter how impossible. The only restraints on his exuberance were the twenty-three little icons on his scope that represented the men and women under his command. For all his talk of keeping cool and fighting methodically, he knew he operated best flying on an almost instinctive level. It let him engage his own opponent, keep track of his wingman, and monitor the activities of the rest of his pilots.
As he led an enemy fighter into position for Rabbit to take out, he saw that Lt. Jamie "Birthday" Candless was in trouble.
"Plug, Birthday's in trouble!" Dick called out to Birthday's wingman, Lt. JG Michael "Plug" Vorland. "Can you handle it, or do you need help?"
"I got it, Skipper," Plug said sheepishly as he pulled back from chasing down a bandit.
Dick spent the rest of the engagement, trading off decoying and killing enemy fighters with Rabbit and babysitting his sometimes wayward charges. When he saw that they were beginning to get low on power but not on opponents, he called back to the Chaffee.
"Andy, this is Grayson."
"Yo, boss!"
"It's time to get your birds in the air. Also, have Chief Killian send one of the stealth probes toward the station."
"Skipper?" questioned Andy.
"There're more fighters here than there should be. I'd like a look at a real-time picture of the base."
"Aye, sir! We should be on station to relieve you in about five minutes."
"Thanks, Andy. Grayson out."
~~~~~~~~~~
"That's our problem, ma'am!" Dick exclaimed in disgust as he pointed at the unmistakable image of a Ch'ton heavy carrier that had been detected by the probe. "She must have shown up after the reconnaissance for the attack was done."
By this time, Dick had already flown two sorties against the base, but the enemy's supply of fighters seemed inexhaustible. Now he knew why. So far, they'd only lost three fighters -- one from his wave, and two from Andy's -- but after flying and fighting constantly for almost four hours, he knew fatigue would soon become a factor.
Honor nodded sympathetically. "I also received word from Admiral Cortez. The Home Fleet hasn't moved yet."
"Why should they?" McKeon asked sardonically. "Under the current circumstances, we're certainly no great threat to their colony!"
The three officers stood looking at the updated tactical display of the engagement. Lady Lex's pilots had done their best, but unlike the Chaffee and the McCain, they were still flying the older, non-upgraded Barracudas and were unable to gain much of an advantage over their opponents. They were killing the enemy fighters at about a 2:1 ratio, which still meant an awful lot of naval aviators were being lost. The McCain's pilots were faring somewhat better, but they had still lost over twenty percent of their entire wing.
"What if Cortez brought in the forward section of the strike force?" considered McKeon, thinking out loud.
Honor answered immediately, "That would certainly bring in the Home Fleet, but we'd lose the element of surprise. The Ch'ton also might suspect a trap which would put the rear strike force section in jeopardy. It would probably work, but it would be very ... messy. We would be going up against them with almost no numerical advantage."
"What if we loaded some ship-killers on the Barracudas and went after the carrier?" asked Dick.
"You'd have to go through that whole gauntlet of fighters you're dancing with now!" McKeon retorted.
"Not if we took it over the elliptic," Dick replied. Most stars and planets orbited around the Milky Way galaxy on the same plane -- almost as if the galaxy were flat. This plane was referred to as "the elliptic." Most spacecraft conformed to this, rarely flying above or below this imaginary line. What Dick proposed to do was to take a longer route to the Ch'ton ship by arcing over the current battle, where the Ch'ton fighters would not be looking.
"I don't know, Dick," Honor said, musingly. "It's still pretty risky. You'd have a nasty return flight."
"I think if we attacked quickly enough, we could take out the carrier and be back over the elliptic before the Ch'ton fighters could figure out where we came from."
A squawk coming from Dick's handheld communicator interrupted further discussion.
"Yo, boss!"
"Yes, Andy?"
"You guys about ready to come out and play? I think our current partners are getting bored with us."
"Roger that. Figure our ETA at about eight minutes."
"Thanks, boss!"
Dick turned back to Honor and McKeon. "Looks like I need to leave. I really think this could work, Skipper," he said earnestly. "If we knock off that ship, that should get the Home Fleet moving."
"All right, Dick. I'll talk to Admiral Cortez about it during your sortie and let you know."
"Thanks, boss!" he said, grinning, echoing Andy's phrase.
Honor smiled at him and shooed him out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~
Admiral Cortez had immediately approved Dick's idea -- now, to make it work. As soon as he was back in the ship after his sortie, Dick had Division One's fighters refueled as quickly as possible and had Nova missiles, nicknamed "ship-killers" loaded. While this was happening, he called a brief meeting of the pilots.
"All right, boys and girls, we're going after that blasted carrier! Division One, we're going to go up over the elliptic and attack from 'above' with some ship killers. Once we're done, we'll come back going under the elliptic, to avoid the fighters as much as possible. My goal is to get back here before Andy's group needs to be relieved, but in case we don't, Greentree, I will want you to take Division Four out and relieve the pilots that are in the worst shape. Once they're back in service, the rest of the wave can be refueled. At that point, head back to the ship, refuel, and go out along our return path to provide cover if we need it. Once we're all back aboard, we'll start the rotation with Andy once again. Questions?"
Rabbit asked, "What if we don't knock out the ship?"
"If our missiles don't do the job, we'll come back, grab some more, and try again. If we want to get the Bugs' Home Fleet moving in our direction, we've got to get that carrier and her fighters off our backs."
Dick saw his plane captain waving at him that his bird was ready to go. "All right, people. As our esteemed captain is fond of saying, 'Let's be about it.'"
After launching, he and Rabbit led the other ten fighters in Division One away from the ship at a gentle twenty-degree angle. This would create a long arching parabola above the plane of the elliptic and, more importantly, above the numerous fighters swirling around "below" them. After almost twenty minutes of flight time, their target came into view. Dick was pleased to see the ship was actually docked to the refit station. Maybe they could take out the ship and the station!
Don't get greedy, he told himself. Just focus on the mission at hand.
To avoid any chance of the carrier's detecting them, Dick had imposed a gag order: no communications use unless it was an emergency, and even then, keep it short. As they approached the point at which they would break off to begin their attack, Dick flashed his running lights once to make sure he had their attention. One by one, they flashed theirs in reply. When he and Rabbit reached the attack point, he flashed his lights twice, and they began their run.
In almost classic dive-bombing formation, each pair of Barracudas went screaming "down" at the huge Ch'ton carrier. At the last second, each pilot would pull up the nose of his ship and launch his missile. The speed and the head-on profile made the Barracudas almost impossible for the startled Ch'ton gunners to hit. By the time the sixth and last pair flew down to attack the carrier, it was belching atmosphere. Hogan's missile delivered the coup de grace, and dozens of explosions rocked the ship.
As the pilots started the looping journey back to the Chaffee, they felt the shock waves as the huge ship finally exploded. Dick was delighted to see that it took the refit station along with it. Mission accomplished!
Now, with a long trip back to their ship, and limited reserves of power and oxygen, they just had to hope none of the carrier's surviving fighters detected them sneaking along below the dogfights.
** End Part 14 **