Of course they are, Colin thought. They want to know where to aim for best effect.
But their formation still made no sense. A shiver ran down his spine as he studied the display, trying to understand what he was seeing. Could the rear superdreadnaughts be having drive problems? Had they lost a node or two? Or…
“Shit,” he said, out loud. The enemy plan was cunning… and he’d almost fallen completely for it. “Alter course; bearing…”
“Contacts,” the sensor officer snapped. New red icons appeared on the display. “Multiple contacts, including at least two superdreadnaught squadrons!”
Gutsy bastard, Colin thought. He’d sent a third of his force away, using drones to mask their absence. No wonder some of the superdreadnaughts had seemed to fall back. Drones simply couldn’t keep up their speed for long. And crafty too.
“Designate the newcomers as Enemy-Two,” he ordered, as the display stabilised. They’d need at least five minutes to recharge their flicker drives, five minutes he had no intention of giving them. But the enemy commander had caught him very neatly between two fires. If he swung his ships around to engage Enemy-Two, Enemy-One would have a clean shot at his hulls. But there was no alternative. Enemy-Two would be in missile range in seconds. “Lock missiles on Enemy-Two, then fire at will. I say again, fire at will.”
Moments later, the superdreadnaughts launched their first barrage.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Admiral Sahrye Yamani winced in pain as Admiral Yeltsin returned to normal space. She had never expected to be promoted, nor to be given such a big responsibility. But there were few experienced officers available and she had won a victory, of sorts. Public Information’s designated shills had already started turning her into a heroine, informing the public that she had won the greatest victory in history. Sahrye was mildly surprised that they hadn’t included the claim she’d faced the rebel CO in single combat and won, but no doubt it was just a matter of time. Public Information was not known for understating anything.
“Enemy fleet is in the projected zone,” the tactical officer reported, as the display lit up with red lights. “They’re altering formation now.”
But they’re out of place, Sahrye thought. They’d been so intensely focused on the Morrison Fleet that they would have to alter their formation to bring most of their weapons to bear on her fleet. We have a chance…
“Lock weapons on the enemy superdreadnaughts,” she said, as if that hadn’t been standing orders from the start. “Fire as soon as you have viable locks.”
“Enemy superdreadnaughts opening fire,” the sensor officer said. “Arsenal ships are holding back.”
“Weapons locked on target,” the tactical officer said. “Admiral?”
“Fire,” Sahrye ordered.
Her superdreadnaughts fired in unison, flushing their external racks and then unloading their inner tubes. Thousands of missiles roared into space, heading directly towards the enemy starships. Their smaller craft hastily started to move, placing themselves and their point defence between the missiles and the superdreadnaughts, but they were badly out of place. It would take several minutes to completely reconfigure their formation and they didn’t have the time.
Sahrye’s own smaller ships fanned out, their point defence already seeking targets. The enemy missile swarm might have been thinner than they’d been expecting, but it was deadly enough to inflict real damage. Would they try to strip away her point defence cover or go directly for the superdreadnaughts? She watched as the missiles sorted themselves out, then threw themselves at the larger ships. It seemed the rebels had decided that her superdreadnaughts were the logical targets.
“Admiral,” the communications officer said, “Admiral Wachter is deploying Omega.”
Sahrye smiled. She was the only person on the ship who knew what Omega was, after a very private briefing with Admiral Wachter. The rebels were in for a very nasty surprise if they tried to flicker out, once they realised that they might have bitten off more than they could chew. Unless, of course, they decided to be stupid and jump anyway…
“Understood,” she said, out loud. There was always a time when careful planning and forethought gave way to action. “Keep us pressing against their lines.”
She allowed her smile to widen. Admiral Wachter’s fleet was climbing up from the planet’s gravity shadow, while her own was moving forward like a dagger to plunge into the rebel side. And, if the rebels couldn’t jump out, they would have to alter course sharply and flee, allowing the Imperial Navy a chance to combine its two formations and give chase. This time, the rebels were facing superior firepower…
“Enemy missiles entering point defence engagement range,” the tactical officer rapped out. “Defences engaging… now!”
Colin silently cursed the enemy commander under his breath as the incoming missiles roared into his formation. With his smaller ships so badly out of place, there was relatively little point defence covering his superdreadnaughts, which had to fend for themselves. They were still part of the datanet, still combining their firepower for maximum advantage, but they couldn’t put out the sheer volley of fire they needed to protect themselves. The enemy didn’t look to have made any major improvements in their seeker heads, yet it didn’t matter. Their targets were far too obvious.
He watched, grimly, as his ships started to take damage. Superdreadnaughts were tough, but there were limits to how many missiles they could absorb before their shields started to fail and allow missiles to strike their hulls. Several ships staggered under colossal blows, one leaking plasma so badly it fell out of formation before vanishing into a fireball. There were no lifepods, as far as Colin could tell. Even if there were, abandoning ship in the midst of a battle ran the risk of being mistaken for a sensor drone or small weapon and being picked off by one side or the other. And then, the Empire would be unlikely to take prisoners — or keep them alive very long, if it did.
“Enemy-one is entering missile range,” the tactical officer said. “They’re locking missiles on us.”
“Flush the arsenal ships at them,” Colin ordered, “then order the arsenal ships to flicker out.”
New icons flared into life on the display as the arsenal ships opened fire. Hundreds of thousands of missiles roared out of his formation, plunging down towards Enemy-one. He could have sworn he saw the enemy formation hesitate, even though it was probably a product of his imagination rather than anything else. There were enough missiles in flight to inflict serious damage, no matter how effectively they’d prepared their point defence. Enough, perhaps, to cripple the enemy fleet…
“Force-one is opening fire,” the tactical officer said. He frowned, puzzled. “Sir, they’re deploying gunboats along with the missiles.”
“Curious,” Colin muttered. Gunboats had no place in fleet combat, everyone knew that. But the enemy commander had already proven himself a wily bastard. No doubt he had something clever up his sleeve. “Ramp up the point defence, then launch spoiler missiles.”
“Aye, sir,” the tactical officer said.
Colin gritted his teeth. The enemy timing hadn’t been perfect, but it had been close enough not to matter. If he turned to deal with one enemy formation, trusting in his firepower advantage, the second one would attack from the rear, catching him between two enemy forces. His firepower advantage would be useless if he had to defend against two fleets at once. But the only alternative was to retreat…