Aboard the Helena, Admiral Davies allowed herself a smile as the damage reports came in on the Rashan dreadnaught. While not destroyed, it showed that the enormous, wedge-shaped ships could be hurt. On the tac plot, one of the Rashan dreadnought icons changed from red to blinking yellow, indicating an incapacitated foe. The Lafayette and Rochambeau were now peppering a Rashan battleship with their railgun rounds, and in moments it disappeared from the tac-plot altogether.
“Ma’am, it looks like the Rashan are getting wise to our railgun bombardment,” Lieutenant Wexler remarked. The icons for the Rashan capital ships began sliding to either side of the League fleet, instead of directly behind it. “They’re going to be able to spot our rail shots much easier now.”
“And open up our cruisers for counterfire.” Admiral Davies turned to her tac officer. “Have the Lafayette and Rochambeau begin evasive thrusting and ensure their shields are angled toward those Rochambeau dreadnaughts. Tell them to expect particle beam fire.” She then turned to another officer on the flag deck. “CAG, what’s the status on our space wing.”
“We’ve lost 30% of our bomber group, Ma’am, they were un-escorted heading back to the carriers to re-arm.”
Davies ignored the unspoken accusation in his voice – he had advocated that some of the fighter groups stay with the bombers to provide cover, but Davies had wanted as many fighters as possible to protect the League’s capital ships. She hoped that she had made the right decision – a lot of bomber crews were dead right now for nothing if she hadn’t. “And the fighters?”
“We’ve lost 20% of our fighters, but they’re holding their own. Losses are mounting though, all fighters are dry on missiles, and some are bingo on canon rounds as well. I recommend we rotate some of our squadrons out to re-arm. We’ll lose some combat effectiveness in the short term, but having fully-armed fighters back in the fray will make a big difference.”
Davies nodded. “Make it happen, two squadrons at a time.”
—
As the Rashan capital ships peeled off from their direct pursuit of the League fleet, Naryaw allowed herself to hope the first time in hours. She had winced as the Flashing Hooves’ sensors had picked up those insane humans kinetic rounds flashing through her fleet, but she couldn’t argue with the results. With the Rashan vessels to either side, they could no longer bring all of their forward-facing weaponry to bear on the League fleet. Her command might survive after all.
The battle seemed to go on for days, though Naryaw knew it was only hours. The Rashan fleet still chased them from the battlefield, and even with their sub-optimal firing positions, they managed to pick off the League’s ships one by one.
“Admiral, the Proud Hackle is falling behind, they won’t be able to maintain their position in the outer shell.”
The report snapped Nuryaw out of her reverie. Scanning her holo-screen, she stared numbly at the number of League icons missing from the display. The once proud League fleet, now running and outnumbered by the Rashan that dogged their ships. How many had they lost? A hundred? Two hundred? The humans, as much as they had done, could not change the outcome. She looked down at the medals that adorned her carapace. She was so proud of them once. Why did they seem so meaningless now?
Naryaw sighed. “Order the support fleet to jump out. There will be no recovery operations today. Move the Flashing Hooves to take the Proud Hackle’s position in the outer shell. Navigation, how soon until we can jump?”
“Twenty minutes until we reach the human fleet and jump range, Admiral.”
Naryaw nodded.”Alert the fleet and the Dreeden-Human contingent; we will be making an immediate jump as soon as we’re clear of the grav-well.” She felt a familiar thrum as the massive jump drives spooled up, ready to fold space itself once they were far enough away from the system’s star and the influence of its gravity was weak enough.
Looking over her bridge crew, she smiled. They were disheveled, terrified and some were sitting in their own waste, but they were still doing their jobs. She would have to try and ensure that the court-martial that she knew would follow this battle didn’t implicate any of them her failure. She wondered if she would be executed. Right now, as long as she could get the remainder of the League fleet to safety, she wasn’t sure if she cared.
—
“All wings, return to the carriers. You are authorized for combat landings, minimum spacing. We’re jumping in 15, so move your ass.”
Quet wasn’t sure if the last part of the Helena’s air wing commander’s orders were entirely by the book, but she took them in the spirit that they were intended.
Flipping her fighter on its end, she shoved her throttle to full military thrust and grunted as she was slammed back into her seat. She keyed her mic to her squadron’s channel. “Let’s head for the barn. Last one in is buying drinks.”
—
“Space wing recovery at 72%, we should be able to get the rest aboard before the jump, but the flight decks are going to be a bit of a mess.” The CAG grimaced as another Bearcat made a hard combat landing, throwing up sparks as it slid across the deck.
“Don’t worry about the mess. We can clean that up in hyper. Bring our pilots home.” Admiral Davies grimaced as the Helena shook with impact. “Tactical, how are we holding up?”
“We’ve lost Caldwell and the Beurling. Our frigates are evading most of the fire so far. Rochambeau is taking heavy fire and has multiple decks open to atmosphere. Helena and Columbia have taken minimal damage thus far; it doesn’t seem that the Rashan recognize their value.”
“Five minutes to jump,” navigation reported.
“Commence final jump preparations. We’ll jump when the League fleet is clear.”
“Admiral,” her tactical officer signaled her. We have a problem. It’s the Flashing Hooves. It’s falling out of formation with the rest of the League fleet.”
—
Aboard the Flashing Hooves, Admiral Naryaw fumbled for her emergency helmet. It had been years since she had used it, and her movements were clumsy. She choked and gasped as acrid smoke filled her lungs, but finally managed to seal it to her carapace. She had to take several gasping breaths of the oxygen-rich mixture piped in by her helmet before she could speak. “Report!”
“It’s the primary engine, we took a laser hit through the engine cowling, destroying it. Secondary explosions have taken out engineering decks 34 through 43 as well.” It was the vice-admiral reporting, his voice thick with fear. “We can’t maintain acceleration with the rest of the fleet. We’re dropping out of formation.”
“What about the jump drive?” Naryaw asked.
“Still functional and spooling up, but we’ll be significantly behind the rest of the fleet by the time we can jump.”
Naryaw pounded her grasping mandibles on her console. They had been so close to escaping! At least the remainder of the fleet would survive.
On her holo-screen, she saw a Rashan dreadnaught and three battleships move to intercept the Flashing Hooves as it lagged behind the fleet. Her ship’s screens buckled as laser fire overloaded shield capacitors.
“All power to shields and weapons, ready self-destruct,” Naryaw heard herself saying. “Let’s take a few of these bastards with us. Ready maneuvering thrusters, we’ll head straight for them, give the rest of the fleet a little more breathing room.
“Admiral, we have a message from one of the Terran cruisers, audio and visual” her comm officer reported.
Naryaw considered ignoring it. What could they possibly want? Her curiosity got the better of her “On screen.”
The image showed what seemed to be a Terran bridge, but full of smoke and fire. In the center sat a human, with their odd utterly opaque visor. For not the first time during the battle, Naryaw wondered what her fleet’s saviors actually looked like. “We’ll cover your jump, Flashing Hooves. Save your heroics for another battle. Our jump drive was knocked off-line, it looks like yours is still active. Godspeed. Rochambeau out.” The human figure saluted, and the transmission blinked out.
Naryaw raised a grasping hoof and returned the salute. “We may get out of this yet. Helm, belay my maneuver orders and go full evasive. Tactical, re-route all weapon power to shields. Navigation, the second we can jump, I want us in hyper.”
“Admiral, human cruiser off the port bow!”
Naryaw gaped as the Rochambeau interposed itself between the Flashing Hooves and it’s pursuers, just kilometers away. The entire ship trailed fire, and it’s atmosphere spilling out of uncontained hull breaches. One of its rail-gun turrets was a mangled wreck, and it looked like the top half of the conning tower had been destroyed as well.
Nonetheless, the Rochambeau’s remaining railguns were firing non-stop, their barrels glowing red, then blue, then white with heat. The Rashan battleships were far too close to dodge the incoming railgun rounds, and two exploded almost simultaneously as kinetic projectiles impacted their drive core. A third was forced to withdraw, venting atmosphere.
“Admiral, the rest of the fleet is jumping out. We have 25 seconds before we’re clear of the grav well.”
“Thank you navigation,” Naryaw said softly.
On the screen, Naryaw watched as the Rochambeau accelerated toward the Rashan dreadnaught, all of its rail guns firing. “Watch,” she commanded her bridge crew. “This is what honor looks like.”
The Rashan dreadnaught realized the human cruiser’s intentions too late. It fired it’s maneuvering thrusters in vain, trying to move from the Rochambeau’s path. Somehow Rochambeau matched the maneuver. In an instant, the cruiser and the dreadnaught disappeared in blinding light.
For a moment, the Flashing Hooves was alone. No one dared breathe on the bridge as the Rashan fleet converged on their position. No one but the navigation officer. “Jumping in five, four, three, two, one…..”
—-
Later
“Besides our apologies, and our thanks, Admiral Davies and Ambassador Nesh, I wanted you to know that I will be recommending the captain of the Rochambeau for the Bonthan fleet’s highest honor. We were all humbled by his crew’s sacrifice.”
On the holo-screen, Admiral Davies nodded slowly, face obscured by an opaque contact helmet. “He was a good man. They all were.”
“I have one question for you, Admiral Davies.” Naryaw leaned forward toward the screen. “How did you know?
“How did you know the Rashan had the second fleet? Or that they would try and trap us in the first place? And you brought carriers to the battle, not capital ships. How did you know that the Rashan would utilize these small craft, so you could deploy your fighters to counter them? How did you even know that a space-faring predator species was possible?” Naryaw stopped herself, taking a deep breath, and retracting her hackle-spines with a conscious effort.
Admiral Davies turned to the Dreeden ambassador, Nesh, who looked thoughtful. After a long pause, he nodded.
“I already told you, Admiral Nuryaw, when you asked the first time how I knew the Rashan fleet was lying in wait. It was what I would have done. You see, Admiral,” Davies reached for the release latch on her helmet, which unsealed from her neck with a hiss of pressurized air, revealing her white omnivore teeth in a smile and two forward facing icy-blue eyes.
Naryaw gaped as she looked at the face of a human for the first time. As she looked at the face of a predator.
“As to knowing how a space-faring species of predators were possible Admiral? Let’s just say that we Terrans and the Rashan have a lot in common.”