Battleship Furiosa Page 4

  She licked her lips and then nodded to the doorway. As she spoke, her eyes kept moving to an area at the side of the room. Nate started to look there but snapped back when the Captain's eyes met his.

  "That last engagement cleared the area, our minelayers are back in action, and the area seems...well...relatively clear. The Admiral believes we may have given this Legate a bloody enough nose. What do you think?"

  Nate's eyes widened in surprise. He might be a successful fighter pilot, but his knowledge of fleet strategy and tactics was very limited. So surprised was he by the question that he didn't notice Captain Galanos nodding to somebody in the shadows.

  "I've no idea, Sir."

  The Captain watched him and sighed.

  "Okay, out with it. The main reason I kept you and your friends on was that you are my wildcard. You came here on a different path, and you offer a different approach to problem solving. Now, what's the problem?"

  Nate rubbed at his chin as he spoke.

  "None of this makes any sense. Sending in a few ships at a time, all it does is lose them ships...And..."

  "Yes?"

  "Well...it pins us in position to deal with them. We will not move for fear of exposing the Rift home. We have lost all mobility while the enemy has a free hand to do whatever he pleases. They will attack us I am sure, but when it suits them, and after they have done whatever it is they are doing."

  Captain Galanos looked at him for a few seconds and then smiled.

  "What do you mean by that, Ensign?"

  He swallowed and wondered if perhaps this was the time for him to keep quiet.

  "The Star Empire has substantial forces at their command. Where are they and what are they doing?"

  "That is exactly what Prince Kratha said."

  She made a noise as though she was clearing her throat, and to Nate's astonishment the battered looking figure of General Honorius appeared from the dark corner of the room. Alongside him was the stern looking figure of Lieutenant Heiskell, the commander of the marines on board the ship.

  "Ensign Lewis."

  The voice was robotic, due entirely to the translator unit the alien always carried. In the low light the reptilian figure look sinister and dangerous. Nate leapt to his feet, a little unnerved by the unexpected guest, but the Captain signalled him to stay there. The alien moved closer and then waited at the side of the desk. Nate was surprised to see him and had assumed that by now he would have been aboard one of his own ships with the Prince. The General then looked to the Captain and nodded slowly.

  "I told you this isn't right. Don't you find it odd that we've not heard from General Makos in more than twenty-four hours? Not one signal has reached us from the relay at the Serpentis System. Is he coming here, or has something stopped him?"

  The mention of this individual piqued Nate's interest.

  "Did you say the General?"

  Both officers looked at him, but this time the General spoke.

  "Yes, General Makos. He is a true patriot and a hero to our people. The last contact we received from him was that he was mobilising all forces at the Tenth Quadrant, ready to join the Prince in his efforts to save then Empire. Then a Star Empire taskforce blockaded the Spacebridge back to the Alliance. After that, we heard nothing and can only assume the worst."

  Captain Galanos' eyebrows lifted as she looked into Nate's eyes.

  "We've already discussed this, Ensign. That is not why you're here."

  Nate licked his lips, clearly nervous at the tone.

  "All I want from you is your assessment, as a gamer and as one of the few people that has dealt with all sides in this crisis. You may have useful insight into the enemy's intentions."

  The General lifted his head and made an odd snorting sound. Captain Galanos looked at him but clearly had no idea whether he was being disparaging, or if it was yet another oddity with his species.

  "So tell me, Ensign. If this was a simulation, and you were on the other side and in charge of their military forces, what would you be doing?"

  He took in a short breath and tried to imagine being in the same position. Long-term strategy was not his thing, but small fleet engagements and complex missions were something he'd dealt with on hundreds of occasions. He contemplated trying to come up with something intelligent, but the look on their faces served as a reminder that they had neither the time nor the patience for that.

  Just say what's on your mind, fool.

  "If I assume I have an enemy of equal strength, I could only win by engaging part of his fleet at once. I would use the time bought by sacrificing a few warships and many useless transport ships to strike elsewhere."

  As Nate said the words, he actually began to believe them. It was something they'd often experimented with in the cold and clinical environment of the simulation. When lives were no longer at stake, it was much easier to intentionally lose ships and sacrifice entire battlegroups to achieve particular objectives. As he looked at the other two, he could see they were in at least partial agreement.

  "Yes, I'd send my entire strength against the one ally the Prince has left, and end this war before it can begin. With the Byotai finally knocked out, it will just be us left. And without Makos, I suspect we are significantly outnumbered?"

  "You think he is in danger?" asked the Captain.

  Nate nodded, and at the same time, a light began to flash in the room. The Captain's Secpad bracelet flickered, and she lifted it to listen. It was the XO.

  "Sir, we have more ships coming through. Five this time, and they are dropping fighters. The Admiral is sending in three more cruisers to assist Promethium."

  Her eyes rose and looked to Nate. She was an adult, an officer with years of experience. She might not look particularly old, but Nate could tell from her eyes that she'd seen this all before. Marks on her cheek served as a constant reminder of the permanent scarring suffered by so many in the fleet.

  "You still think this is a diversion, Ensign?"

  He nodded without thinking.

  "Yes, Sir. They are throwing ships at us to keep us here. That much I am convinced about. As to what else they are doing."

  He shrugged.

  "Well, I can only guess at that, Sir."

  The Captain looked to her officers and nodded, as though what Nate had said agreed with exactly what they already thought.

  "If we're right, Makos could be under threat. We have to act."

  There was no sign of disagreement between then, and as she tapped her Secpad, she indicated to Nate that he could leave.

  "Thank you, Ensign. Now get some rest. I suspect all of us are going to be very busy, and soon."

  Nate rose to his feet and made for the door. The officers waited in silence, but as soon as he was through, he could hear them talking. The door hissed shut, and he found himself alone in the corridor, all apart from the tall, impatient figure of Lieutenant Commander Holder.

  "Well?" she asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

  Nate looked a little confused. Her voice was foreign, exotic, and oozed class. It was unusual to hear the accent these days, and Nate was certain it descended from the British people. Many of them had relocated to Terra Nova in the centuries since the founding of the first colonies. Over time, the accent had changed until it became the dominant sound of the rich and privileged in the Alliance. Nonetheless, there was something attractive about it that Nate found hard to ignore.

  "You think these attacks are a ruse, too?"

  The Lieutenant Commander smiled, and Nate found it hard not to join in. This was something very rare from her, especially after the violence and tension of the last mission.

  "Indeed."

  She then placed a hand on his shoulder and turned to move back into the passageway.

  "It's time we talked about Captain Cornwallis' rationalisation plan for our pilots."

  "Plan, Sir?"

  Nate gulped as he listened. Rationalisation was not a word he was used to hearing, but he suspected it meant ch
anges, and perhaps even cuts to their squadrons.

  "Yes, the plan," she replied, still maintaining her friendly tone, "It seems that with all this trouble, High Command wants to improve the effectiveness of the fighter squadrons in the fleet."

  She stopped for a moment.

  "Our people are working well together. That’s why I requested that the Corsairs and Knighthawks be granted a more permanent relationship."

  Nate's eyes could not have opened wider even if he'd tried.

  "It won't happen immediately, but if Command agree to it, we'll be joined permanently into a Space Combat Wing with a single senior commander. It's a big step, but it will lead to a more effective unit. Corsairs will take over fighter combat duty with the Lightning interceptors. Knighthawks will take the heavy assault duty using the Kerberos pattern fighters and the gunships."

  "Is that possible?"

  She nodded.

  "Of course. Pilots will move between the squadrons depending on the need at the time. We'll use the right people in the right roles. But first, we have to survive the next few days."

  She then indicated off into the passageway.

  "I suggest you do whatever it is you planned on doing, and fast. Your turn will come again in no less than six hours. We're all on rotation duty now, and if we're both right, the Star Empire is not going stop anytime soon."

  She made to move and then stopped again, shaking her head as she looked at her Secpad. When her eyes moved to Nate, he could tell there was a problem. As she looked back, Nate found himself completely absorbed in her eyes. She was at least eight years his senior, yet she looked as young as any of the others pilots. Only her voice and her calm demeanour made her stand out as something very different.

  "I need to see my pilots."

  She pointed to Nate and lowered her gaze a fraction.

  "Commander Higgins wants to see you, though, and now."

  She walked away, but not without a final parting comment, "Good luck, Ensign."

  Nate was so busy watching her elegant form as she walked away that he almost forgot what she had said. Finally, the officer vanished from view, leaving him alone in the passageway. That was the point when her comments finally hit home, and just as before, his nerves returned.

  Wait, what?

  He began walking in the same direction taken by Lieutenant Commander Holder, and with every step, he quickened his pace. Something even he had learnt well by now, was that the waiting was always the worst.

  What have I done now?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Alliance Armoured Assault Ship 'ANS Relentless'

  23 December 2472

  The meeting with the Commander did not go well, and Nate felt numb even thirty minutes after having left the room. It was not from nerves or even fear, this time he was simply angry at the verbal punishment he'd received. He was not happy, and though he tried to distract himself with the machinery of war around him, he still could not shake off the talk he'd just been given by Commander Higgins. Nate was sure he'd given a good account of himself, and his reward had been a stern dressing down. Just over an hour ago he'd been engaged in battle, dodging bullets, and vaporising enemy fighters. Now he was back aboard the ship, and while other pilots continued to perform patrols, he was stuck here, knowing that he might have lost any chance to get back out in space. He closed his eyes for a second and took a few slow breaths.

  What else could I have done?

  For all the blame was laid at his feet, and Nate could not see how the action or failures of Rex could be fairly placed on him. They had never gone through the pressure-based training and selection of the normal fighter units, or even through the military academy. They were civilians, and most of them still weeks, or even months from their eighteenth birthdays. They were Academy cadets, and to expect the same from them as fully training military personnel felt unfair.

  "Top deck, launching fighters. Flight three prepare for rotation."

  The loudspeakers announced the next batch of fighters to be prepared. No sooner did one group leave; another would form up on the deck for combat. Even if Nate got to fly again, it would not be his turn for another four patrol launches. That was at least a bit of time to clear his mind. He looked to the right where the large display on the wall showed the distant Rift. For a moment, it could have easily been confused as a window out into space.

  "Launching!"

  The ship didn't even shudder as a pair of Corsair Squadron fighters blasted out into space. He waited until they came into view, the bright blue and white from their engines marking their acceleration towards the Rift. More dots showed where pairs from other ships were doing the same.

  Another launch and another battle.

  Nate shook his head and sighed. Little seemed to have changed in this particular zone of the conflict, or policing action as he'd heard some of the officers describing it. There was a real fear of labelling it as anything more, even though ships had now been lost on both sides. As far as he could tell, both were massing ships for some kind of big showdown, and the outcome would determine the fate of the remnants of the Byotai Empire.

  A pilot from Corsair Squadron took off his helmet, nodded politely, and stopped to look at the screen. He spotted the shapes of his comrades moving off towards the Rift and then looked back at Nate.

  "Nothing is getting past us in this system. Right?"

  Nate nodded as the pilot moved away. He couldn't agree with the pilot, though. He knew the kind of numbers the enemy had access to, and it was starting to unnerve him. The longer they remained in the Fiorr Veej System, the more time they gave to the enemy to carry out his plan.

  There they go again.

  Far off into the distance, and just near the Rift, came a cloud of glistening light. To the uninitiated, it might have been an odd celestial event. Nate knew better, though. The lights were the telltale mark of gunfire. It was too far away to make out exactly what was happening, but he suspected it was yet another attempt to run the blockade. While this never-ending skirmish continued, so the fighter squadrons from the assembled ships carried on running patrols along the Rifts. For all this action and excitement, he was back on Relentless and in trouble again. He'd done everything asked of him, but for all that, his authority in the Squadron had been questioned. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to shake the image of Commander Higgins from his mind.

  It's not fair. I did my part, and so did Rex, even if he did screw up a bit.

  Just thinking of Rex started his blood pumping again. The two had never really been friends, but events over the last weeks had brought them together. The closer he and Cassandra became appeared to have an adverse effect on him as well. With each day Cassandra drifted away, and no matter what he said, she seemed to try and avoid him. He took one more deep breath and then opened his eyes. He looked back so that he could see Billy and Matilda still talking. They were in a world of their own as they sat on an empty loader. The machine was a wheeled platform that could move people and equipment silently around the deck. Nate waited and listened for a second. They were talking about the latest ground war addition to the Star Crusader simulation. He'd like to have joined in, but they would easily tell something was up, and he didn't want to talk to them about the dressing down he'd received. Instead, he returned his attention to the engineer working on a battered looking Bullnose gunship's weapon mechanism. It was marginally interesting, and the more he concentrated on it, the more he could try and forget about what had just happened. The man slid out from underneath the spacecraft, wiped his left hand, and then pointed to its nose.

  "Ensign, let me just reattach the chain drive and I'll be with you."

  Nate nodded politely and watched the man work. On the floor beside him was a metallic case containing multiple new parts, as well as a series of schematics on a previous generation Secpad unit. There were new chain parts, as well as sections that had just been removed.

  "Okay..." he started, "If we change out the links here, we can increase
your rate of fire by up to nearly sixty percent."

  The man pulled on the chain drive, and it began to make a clicking sound as it moved through the ammunition. Nate watched with interest as the belt open and closed the revised loading gear that the man had just fitted.

  "Now, by combining this with the mixed ammunition, you upgrade the entire gunship to B3 specification."

  He licked his lips as though showing he was most satisfied with his work.

  "And all of this was done on board Relentless, with no time spent back in dock, or with refit engineers back at the factory."

  The engineer sat upright and double-checked the tension on the belt with a metallic tool. As he pulled on the unit, he continued to speak, "CTC have started shipping upgrade kits for all our front-line fighters. Lightning, Hammerhead, Bullnose, and even the brand new MQ-5 Avenger."

  His eyebrows lifted as he mentioned the drone.

  "You've flown the Avenger, right?"

  Nate smiled.

  "When we first escaped aboard Relentless, we took control of the Avengers. They're all gone now, though."

  The man chuckled.

  "Yeah, we noticed that when we transferred over from Warlord. The upgraded Avengers are quite the thing, right now."

  Nate nodded and then pointed to the loading motors. They were electrically driven and powered by the onboard generator. The dull cogs were covered in thick, heavy-duty looking chains that helped pull the ammunition directly to the gunnery system.

  "But won't that increase the heat of the loading wheels here? I thought the design for the original Hammerhead was to use these chin-mounted guns as a low rate of fire support weapon. Is this really workable, long-term?"

  The man smiled, perhaps pleased that the young pilot actually understood something of the mechanism. There was always something of a contest between the experienced and well-trained engineers and technicians in the Navy, and the pilots that flew the spacecraft. Nate was one of the few pilots to have ever shown much of an interest in the mechanical side of anything on the landing deck. The man rubbed his chin and left a smear of grease on the skin.