“Well, I have a problem with that. We won’t know who we’re up against until we engage, and remember what I said about retreat. It is not a sure thing. Can we prepare ourselves to go up against a Rebel crew? I noticed there’s no Empire bridge crew here. That’s a first for me.”
“All killed. The squadron commander survived, but he’s wounded. We left him behind.”
“We still have a bare bones bridge crew,” Sara noted. “We’re adequate. We have one gunner for each battery. Do we have time to train Empire gunners? A full crew of them would be 120 plus whatever additional control officers they need. Surely not all of them were killed.”
Reba stared at her in amazement. “They weren’t, and you’re right. We can make this ship functional against whatever we run into. Brilliant!”
“Are the remains of the Empire crew on our side?”
“Good question. I think so, but we’ll take no chances. The door to the bridge will remain locked unless one of us has to go in or out.”
Sara spent hours running battle scenarios, bringing both sets of gun crews to a level of performance Reba had not achieved on her own. All the months of training at Parsons’ World had made a difference for the Terrans.
Reba smiled to herself despite the uncertainties before them. The outcome of the battle had been partly determined on Earth during the selection process. She and Trexler had chosen well. Terrans were going to show their value to everyone today.
The two of them stared out at the oncoming horde. Seven and one-half squadrons had the job of slowing down the approach of 37 enemy squadrons. They didn’t have to slow the enemy down very much, an hour would allow the rest of Trexler’s squadrons to catch up, but an hour of fighting between capital ships was an eternity, and the enemy had five squadrons to each of Reba’s.
Sara sensed Reba’s unease through the net, and she sensed the unease from the rest of her crew which was tied to her through the net. She directed a thought to all of them.
“Admiral Trexler knows. He won’t let us down. He has six fast squadrons that no one can see – their beacons are off. I’ll bet they’re nearby, ready to pounce after the first shot, and they are much more capable than the enemy knows. The real odds are four-to-one. We haven’t handled those odds before, but I think we can.”
She gave that statement a few heartbeats to sink in, then said, “I’m raising the bar. We’re not just going to slow them down. Let’s show these Rebels what we’re made of. I want us to take out all of them before the rest of our guys get here.”
Stunned thoughts flooded the net. She grinned. “Don’t think about 37 enemy squadrons. Think about 4, just the number 4. Our job is to take out 4 enemy squadrons. We have a two-cruiser combination to do it, not a cruiser-frigate. I’ve never seen a two-cruiser combination in action before, but neither has the enemy. We’re going to kick some butt today.”
A little while later, the Rebel/Chessori fleet split up. Fifteen squadrons continued inbound to battle Reba’s inner squadrons, and 22 reduced speed to meet the oncoming fleet of ten outer squadrons. Clearly, the Rebels did not see Trexler’s six fast squadrons.
Sara turned a beaming countenance to her crew. “We just won, guys,” she announced. “The odds are better than two-to-one, and I guarantee us a win. We won’t ease off, it’s still going to be a hard fight, but we’re going to shine. Be aggressive, not defensive.”
When the Rebels split up, Trexler grinned. They must be truly confident of the superiority of the scree. He said to Chandrajuski, “They just made a determining mistake. The battle is ours.”
The battle was his now. He ordered his inner squadrons back, delaying their attack. He wanted both of his battle groups to engage at the same time. He had no intention of letting either group of Rebels learn his tactics before they engaged. He assigned three fast squadrons to flank each of the Rebel groups. When the attack started, they would materialize beside their targets with complete surprise.
His job as fleet commander was just about over. He took command of the inner battle group and assigned a senior admiral to command the outer battle group.
To the Rebels, the approaching battle probably looked like a win. They had 37 squadrons against 17 squadrons of defenders, better than two to one odds, and they likely had the scree. Trexler had no doubt they felt confident. They didn’t know about his 6 invisible squadrons, and they didn’t know about the Terrans’ immunity to the scree.
Both of his battle groups approached the Rebels. Suddenly, the scree sounded. Trexler, was the only one left functioning in the operations center, and on the bridge, it would only be Terrans flying the ship. His lips formed into a thin smile: he had trained his men for exactly this. He no longer confronted fully manned Rebel ships – he was now up against limited crews of Chessori.
Chessori aboard the Rebel ships held their fire. Trexler notified all his ships to hold fire until the Chessori took the first shots. It looked to him like the Chessori were confident their scree had disabled the crews of his ships. Overconfidence by the enemy was a gift no commander would turn down.
Reba received orders from Trexler: previous target assignments were cancelled. She was to hold fire until the Chessori took their first shots. He expected the Chessori to merge with his ships before that happened. She was to take on the nearest enemy ship unless directed otherwise.
Sara ordered her sister cruiser in closer. It took the position normally occupied by a frigate. Since no one knew exactly how this new ship combination was going to work out, they would start with what they knew, and improvise as necessary.
Reba’s leg was on fire with Cassandra relegated to her lower left leg, but she had been through the scree for hours on end during her previous fighting and had learned to cope.
The Chessori neared, and her gunners held their fire, but the net practically sung with anxiety. Reba double-checked all her shields at full strength, and everything else was in order. The Chessori slowed, and the two fleets began to merge. An eerie, surreal sensation filled Reba as, through her senses on the net, she watched enemy ships sliding between the ships of her battle group. Still no word to open fire from Trexler, and the Chessori held their fire, moving into perfect firing positions.
Sara’s target changed, but no one needed to tell her. A Chessori squadron approached, and another stood off slightly. Sara passed the word: both ships in her squadron would engage the nearby squadron first, inflicting as much damage as they could before the second squadron moved in.
Guns on the enemy cruisers opened up, but almost lazily, as if the Chessori believed they had all the time in the world. The guns on Reba’s two cruisers exploded, sending a tremendous barrage of fire into the enemy cruiser that, clearly, was not prepared. The enemy cruiser did not just go dead in space – it exploded, completely disintegrating.
Fighting stopped for a moment. The crew was stunned, and so, apparently, were the attacking Chessori. Reba didn’t give her crew a chance to rejoice. She still had the other enemy cruiser and four frigates to deal with. “Shift target,” she ordered Sara.
Sara quickly brought her two cruisers into range of the second enemy cruiser. Meanwhile, Reba issued orders to her gunnery officer: “Those frigates are going to gang up on us. Your target is the cruiser, but keep an eye on defense.”
“Aye, Ma’am.”