The Imperial fleet held a slight numerical advantage with seventy ships to the United Fleet’s fifty-five. Another worrisome force multiplier was those damned stealth missiles packing matter/antimatter. The only good news was the new Imperial warheads were slow and they were aware of their existence. Then there were the advanced laser batteries. Who knows how many of the Imperial ships mounted the new weapons systems? That detail alone could shape the way this engagement went.
Although Phoenix fielded many prototype technologies, which might be ready for deployment throughout the Fleet, she was still essentially a classified ship. And many technologies deployed aboard her would need new classes of line ships to accommodate them.
After studying the sensor returns from Shepherd’s ships, it was apparent the shipyards had already retrofitted some with havoc heavy missiles. The downside was these missiles were expensive and there was no mass production. They were still considered to be in a prototype stage of development.
Local Atlas Navy ships joined the rear echelon of The United Fleet but minutes later quickly began accelerating on a return vector to Atlas. Shepherd must have ordered them to return and provide a last line of defense for Atlas. Those ships would intercept any Imperial ships making a break for the planet. Hopefully, any surviving Imperial ship would have too much damage to make an assault. The local Atlas navy wouldn’t be able to handle much more. It wasn’t uncommon for a decommissioned ship to form the bulk of local navy ships. Their duties entailed nothing beyond routine in-system patrols and anti-piracy operations.
Large fleet engagements kicked off from a distance of several light-minutes and progressed towards a brutal point-blank brawl.
During the initial phases, the fleets poked each other with long-range missile ordnance, each hoping to soften up the other with tactical strikes. In subsequent phases, the smaller screen of ships would engage their counter parts.
If you could secure dominance in the lightweight division, the larger combatants would be more vulnerable. This weakness manifested due to the difficulty which larger capital-sized weapons encountered when tracking smaller ships with high transversal velocities at close range.
The lighter armaments of a single frigate didn’t pose a significant threat to larger capital ships, but that could change with coordinated strikes. It was sound judgment on the part of any frigate captain to remain well outside the range of battleship firepower despite the latter’s inability to track them well up close. The difficult part was getting into range of the battleship, as it usually required smart maneuvering to avoid incoming fire, while still cutting the distance. A direct burn was out of the question.
Once the large combatants on either side closed in for the final stages of a fleet engagement, and became otherwise pre-occupied, the lighter ships could maneuver with a little less hassle around a chosen target. Repeated precision strikes on weapons or engines might best be described as death by a thousand cuts.
The squadrons throughout each wing would vary the tightness of their formations. While the more maneuverable frigates could compensate in the event one of them was isolated or overreached, it would be difficult for the lumbering heavy ships to move in to protect an isolated squad member. With squadrons of combatants exchanging volleys of missiles, even a three-ship formation would be crippled if they found themselves too far outside the envelope of their own squadrons unified and coordinated point defense.
“Incoming visual communication, unknown location, Commander,” Alvarez said.
The main bridge monitor lit up. It displayed an image of a man clad in a dark jump suit. Not a single hair out of place, and a slick part to the side, almost a replica of Ben James, but this couldn’t be him. This man didn’t have a hole in his forehead.
“Poor, Commander Rayne,” the unknown speaker said, the frame showed Lieutenant Delaine by his side. “First you lost your ship due to incompetence, discharged and disgraced, you colluded with Imperial agents and separatists to bomb Atlas, your own home. Now you’re about to witness the destruction of Atlas once we’re done with your fleet.”
“You’re as bad a story teller as the other one. Who the hell are you now?”
“You know my name. I am Ben James.” He had that same fixed maniacal expression the late Ben James had.
“Ben James is on Atlas with a hole in his forehead.”
“We are all Ben James, Commander. Why not ask my associate Supreme Commander Shepherd? He’ll be in range soon enough. The victors write history, Rayne. Our version will go something like this: your father was about to lose power to the separatists. If he couldn’t rule Atlas, no one would. He enlisted your aid to conspire with the Imperials to raze the planet. Even official Fleet record has you discharged. That ship is Fleet property and you used it to attack defenseless ships along the border.”
Aaron slumped into the command seat, the color drained from his face, his legs weak. Was Supreme Commander Shepherd one of these so-called associates? Had they manipulated him this whole time?
“Ah, Rayne,” the new Ben James said. “It’s making sense isn’t it? Did it not seem strange they chose you to meet a separatist contact who had information about a conspiracy within the United Systems? And he just happened to be your father? We needed to know what he knew, and how fortunate for us, all of you will perish here today. First you in space and then your father on Atlas.”
Aaron looked up. “70 years of peace and it all comes down to this. A few clinically insane, delusional and forgettable people ignite a war. To what end?”
“Agents in the Empire jumped at the chance to split the USS and possibly ignite a civil war. Surely, they hoped other member worlds might follow the Border Worlds if they declared independence. Our careful maneuvering has lured an Imperial fleet to Atlas. No one will believe they are not responsible for razing the planet. The Imperial fleet can stay and watch if they wish, they’ll be next. We only intended to lure their response, we’ve positioned ultra-loyalists on Shepherd’s ships and they will raze the planet. The Border Worlds will move on without Atlas. A necessary loss to seal the resolve of the USS, to go all the way and not stop at Hosque this time.”
“I think you will find the fiddler has been played,” Aaron said. “Elements within the Imperial Navy have long prepared for this day, perhaps before you even put the wheels of your madness into motion. An advanced fleet of Imperial warships awaits you out there, and they intend to raze Atlas themselves.”
“It doesn’t matter, Rayne. You will be dead and we will have our war. We will obliterate the Baridian Empire this time. There will be no stopping our ships. We will leave the Empire a smoldering ruin as we should have 70 years ago.”
It took all of his strength not to look away from Ben James and give him the satisfaction. Was Aaron that easy to manipulate? Could loyalty blind the most honest and good-natured men and turn them into pawns? It felt like he was now a pawn in the conspiracy to destroy the Empire. He’d believed in Shepherd, the entire Fleet did. And it seemed he was the scapegoat.