"The stupid fools."
"Our latest damage report?"
"Tarvakh is still contending with internal fires, all three forward launch bays are closed. Yu'ba'tuk's main shield generator is still off line and one launch bay closed."
"Secondary shielding?"
"At ninety-one percent, expected to upgrade to ninety— three within the hour."
"Fighter losses?"
"Heavy, sire. Seven eight-of-eights and two eights today. Eight eight-of-eights and five eights total."
Not good at all . The Empire could invest all it wanted on new carriers that were next to indestructible, but at the core, it still came down to having fighters that were equal to or better than the latest Confederation designs, and pilots who were trained to fly them. It had always been the weak edge. Except for the handful of Stealth fighters possessed by the Empire, fighter design and pilot training had never fully kept up with that of the humans. The emergencies of the last two years had forced them to repeatedly reach into the academies and throw half-trained cadets into action — where most of them died within a matter of days. The survivors were tough, but there were always too few.
He looked at what he had left and made his decisions.
"Order Tarvakh to transfer her remaining fighters to my flagship. That will make good on our losses. Detail off," and he paused to look at the status of the three surviving older carriers. "Detail off Notakgak and Darthuka and their support ships to escort Tarvakh back to the Empire. Both the retreating carriers to transfer their heavy strike squadrons to this ship as well. Order the flanking cruiser squadrons to join us in the next sector forward. Their fighters will equal those we lose from Notakgak and Darthuka. Order the fleet to move up to flank speed in pursuit. When we reach the next jump point send the first wave of light corvettes and minesweeps through first, followed by cruisers in case they are waiting in ambush."
The officer bowed in reply.
"The cruiser squadron detailed to the main planet of this system has suppressed the planetary defenses, my lord. They are awaiting orders."
Prince Thrakhath smiled.
"Annihilate the planet, and then we go for Tolwyn and Earth."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Transjump completed, Prince Thrakhath stood up, expectant. A tremor of excitement coursed through him. Involuntarily his talons extended and he felt saliva filling his mouth. He waited, heart racing as the jump point confirmation flashed across the main screen of the battle bridge. Optical scanners swept space and then finally locked on to what the Prince was seeking. Magnification and computer enhancements kicked in and the image zoomed in, expanding.
Earth floated in the middle of the screen. A growl of triumphal shouts echoed on the battle bridge, a total breakdown of discipline that he was willing, at least this once, to ignore and forgive, as his own howl of triumph mingled in with that of his crew.
"Signal the fleet on an open channel, Thrakhath roared and his communications officer opened the line.
"Today we shall watch Earth burn. Long live the Emperor and the Empire. Standard battle formation, advance full speed ahead!"
"They're starting to advance," Duke Grecko said quietly.
Geoff Tolwyn said nothing, intently studying the long range tactical display, as the information was relayed in by a line of picket ships pulling back ahead of the Imperial Fleet.
The advance came straight on with a defiant certainty. There was no elaborate maneuvering, no attempts at tactical ploys. The Kilrathi main battle fleet came on in a solid mass, arrogant in its overwhelming power.
"I'd better get to my ship," Duke said.
"Your tactical plan is suicidal, Duke. Ship-to-ship fighting isn't a Marine job. Leave it to the fleet. And by God, Duke, boarding is something straight out of Nelson and Trafalgar."
"I'll be damned if we're sitting this fight out, so don't argue with me about it."
Geoff looked over at him, smiled, and took his old friend's hand.
"All right, it just might work. But you know, Duke, the proper place for the Head of Joint Chiefs is back at headquarters on Earth."
Duke sniffed angrily.
"Look, Geoff. Up until they decided to make me a hero after Vukar I was a line officer. Being in command of the whole show was never my plan. I'll be damned if I hide in a bunker while my grunts are fighting for survival. Anyhow, I've always wanted to lead a battle like this."
"Leading men in a desperate battle, against impossible odds?" Tolwyn said with a smile. "What are you, the reincarnation of Patton?"
"Don't let anyone in on the secret, Geoff"
"Take care, Duke."
"God speed and good hunting, Geoff. I'll see you at sundown."
Geoff laughed softly and walked his commander off the bridge and down the corridor to the starboard launch bay. Fighters were lined up down the length of the deck, crews going over last minute checks, armament teams finishing up loading, and repair crews off to one side, struggling to salvage and bring back into the fight craft damaged in the Battle of Sirius.
A Marine landing craft was on the launch line, pilots standing by the open door, talking with the launch officer. At the sight of Grecko approaching they stiffened, came to attention and saluted.
"At ease, boys. Fire the engine up and let's get to work."
Geoff saluted Duke, who looked back at him and smiled.
"Give them hell, Geoff," and then he was gone, the entry hatch closing behind him and snicking shut.
Geoff stood back from the launch line as the deck launch officer stepped up forward and beside the Marine landing craft. She held her hand to her ear protectors, waiting to hear from the senior launch officer that Marine 1 was cleared. She saluted the pilot when word of clearance was passed, crouched down and pointed forward. The landing craft started forward, clearing the airlock, then kicked on full afterburners and, turning to starboard, disappeared.
Thirty million clicks beyond the airlock Mars hovered in the darkness, a bright point of red light. Thin lines of reflected silver light moved past the airlock, hundreds of light civilian ships heading outward, with several hundred Marine landing craft moving in the middle of the formation.
Geoff felt sick at heart watching them and turned heading back up the corridor. He was already late for the final briefing and he moved purposefully down the main corridor into the pilot quarters and ready room.
"Attention!"
Geoff came into the ready room, his features set, and reached the lectern. He looked out at his pilots.
Nearly half the faces were new, many of them cadets pulled straight out of the Academy to replace the losses from Sirius.
God, we're sending children out now.
"At ease. Be seated."
"I'll keep this short, we don't have much time. You'll be pleased to know that Lexington has just cleared dry dock, carrying fifty-seven fighters. That'll give us five fleet carriers for this action."
Actually he knew it was almost meaningless. Lexington was coming up with just a little more than half her complement and running on secondary reactor power only. It was nothing more than bait, moving ahead of Concordia, Saratoga, Ark Royal and Leyte Gulf. With three hundred additional fighters sortied up from Mars and Earth orbital bases, there'd be just over six hundred fighters, half of them with green crews who'd never seen action beyond a flight simulator.
"You know your missions. Blue Three, you're flying Combat Air Patrol over the carriers. Blue Two, you're escorting in the Broadswords."