Assuming they survive, Colin thought, coldly. There was something odd about the enemy missiles, something that nagged at his mind. It struck him a moment later; they’d emptied their external racks, but they hadn’t fired their missile tubes. Why? They’d know better than to withhold the external racks — a single direct hit could wipe out the missiles before they were even fired — yet they should have fired their inner tubes too. It made no sense.
Ravi had to fight down an urge to panic as she saw the sheer weight of missiles powering their way towards her fortresses. There were so many missiles that even the most advantaged tactical sensors in the Empire had real problems separating one from another, something that would make it harder to target her point defence on specific missiles. But she did have her planned countermeasure, as well as her enhanced point defence. It probably wouldn’t work twice, she told herself, but it would give her a fighting chance.
“Fire the external racks,” she ordered, quietly.
She felt a moment of pride in her crew as they responded, despite the wall of death advancing towards them. No one had seen such a missile swarm outside a particularly sadistic training simulation, not until the rebels had started deploying their arsenal ships. It was a pitifully simple concept, in hindsight, one the Empire could duplicate within weeks… if it had seen any need to do so. Ravi rather suspected that the limitations of the design would eventually bring it down, or at least force it to be replaced by a more specialised starship, but for the moment it gave the rebels an advantage.
But it wasn’t a decisive advantage…
She bit her lip as her missiles advanced towards the enemy swarm. The odds of a collision were low, although it had been known to happen when there were hundreds of thousands of missiles in the same general area of space. But now…
“Missiles spreading out,” the tactical officer reported. “Twenty seconds to optimal detonation range.”
“Detonate the missiles at the best moment,” Ravi ordered. She wished, absurdly, that she was religious. It would have been nice to know that God was on her side. “Don’t wait for orders, just do it.”
The missiles closed — and her missiles began to detonate. She’d actually redesigned the standard nuclear warheads; instead of laser heads or focused detonations, designed to break down shields, the warheads were intended to create as wide a blast as possible. It would have been useless — worse than useless — against a starship’s shields, but missiles had no shields.
“All missiles detonated,” the tactical officer reported. “We blew holes in their formation.”
Ravi smiled. “Warn the point defence crews to stand by,” she ordered. “There’s still thousands of missiles out there.”
“Sir, they took out a third of the missiles!”
“I see,” Colin said. “Launch a second barrage, but reprogram the missiles to stay further away from each other.”
He felt a glimmer of respect for the enemy commander. Who in their right mind would have constructed missiles that were useless against shields? Whoever was on the other side was smart enough to see the possibilities and high-ranking enough to push her idea through, even against opposition. And there would have been opposition. After all, the Imperial Navy wouldn’t be keen on innovation in the middle of wartime. They’d have to get over that attitude if they wanted to win.
“Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said. There was a pause, then the entire ship shuddered again. “Missiles away.”
Colin nodded, then settled back in his command chair. The only thing they could do now was press the enemy as hard as they could — and hope they killed the enemy commander. He disliked the thought of targeting someone personally because they were a devious bastard, but there was no choice. Superior firepower combined with superior tactical skill would give the enemy a dangerous advantage.
Pity you’re not on our side, he thought, addressing the holographic image of the enemy defences. I would love to have someone like you with us.
Ravi watched, as dispassionately as she could, as the remaining enemy missiles charged into the teeth of her point defence fire. Someone had been thinking on the other side too, she noted, as the missiles retargeted themselves in flight, falling on the starships that mounted additional point defence. Normally, the missiles were programmed to go after superdreadnaughts and orbital fortresses first, leaving the smaller ships and platforms untouched. This time, the missiles were stripping the point defence from her units first, before turning on the bigger facilities. Given the sheer size of enemy throw weights, she had to admit that it was a good tactic.
One by one, her starship icons flared red and disappeared. None of them were designed to stand up to such firepower. Even a superdreadnaught would have been overwhelmed and destroyed. The automated platforms were also taking a beating, but she wasn’t so worried about that. They were expendable, easy to replace — and every missile they soaked up was one that wouldn’t go after a manned starship or defence unit.
“Incoming missiles,” the tactical officer said, quietly. The station went to full alert, switching its point defence weapons back to self-defence. Ravi made a mental note to alter the programming, if they survived long enough to make the changes. Protecting smaller ships went against the grain, but it might be necessary if the rebels kept building arsenal ships. “Twenty seconds to impact.”
“All hands brace for impact,” the XO snapped. Alarms howled, warning the crew to grab hold of something before the missiles struck home. Even if the shields remained intact, the shockwaves would shake the entire station. “I say again, all hands…”
The station rocked violently as the missiles slammed against its shields. Ravi noted, forcing her mind to remain focused, that the rebels had either managed to increase the warhead yields or concentrate them into smaller and smaller shield components. Red lights flashed up on the status display, warning her that several shield generators had burned out, creating a gap in the shields. Moments later, the station rocked again as a missile made it through the gap and slammed right into the hull.
“Major damage to sectors Theta-Rho-343,” the systems officer reported. Somehow, he managed to remain calm, even though the destruction could easily prove lethal. The fortress could soak up a great deal of damage, but there were limits. “Damage control parties are on their way.”
“Swing the shield generators around,” the XO ordered, his voice urgent and harsh. “Get that gap sealed before more missiles get through the defences!”
Ravi gritted her teeth as the second enemy missile barrage advanced towards the remains of her point defence network. They’d blunted the enemy attack, she knew, or they would have been annihilated by the first missile swarm. And yet it hadn’t been enough.
She considered, briefly, surrendering her command. She’d fought — no one could deny she’d fought — and she’d certainly embarrassed the enemy. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t surrender if the enemy hadn’t taken any damage, apart from to their pride. There were Imperial Navy officers who would have regarded that as a fatal wound, but the rebels were probably made of sterner stuff.
“General signal,” she ordered. “All stations are to target the enemy ships and go to rapid fire.”