Evan focused on the last pieces of shell stuck to the egg.
"You needn't worry, Dante. I have it on good authority that Chancellor D'Trayne will personally intercept the Excalibur with two of their Stingrays. That will be the end of that."
The President's lack of military knowledge shocked Jones.
"You're kidding, right? They might do some damage, but a dreadnought will take out two Stingrays."
Godfrey bit into the egg, chewed, and told Jones: "Usually, yes. That's why I provided the Chancellor with the Excalibur's blue prints and specifications. That should even the odds."
– "Fox one, fox two. Two heat seekers away," Brett Stanton echoed the commands Jon Brewer entered from his station at the 'brain' of the ship, serving as a translator of the action for Lori Brewer who hovered at the bridge entrance.
Outside, two missiles fired in pursuit of the Witiko ships as the Stingrays made their third dive-bomb style attack on the top side of the dreadnought. Each time their lasers hit sensitive spots, the weaker bulkheads, and defensive emplacements, then they cut their dive off sharp and climbed again above the Excalibur.
With each pass, Jon fired infrared sidewinders. The missiles climbed in pursuit of the fast-moving attackers who seemed like bumblebees trying to strike an elephant. But Jon's elephant lacked tusks. The Stingrays did not appear on any radar scopes and hence were immune to radar-locking munitions. Worse, their first strike destroyed the top side main batteries, meaning only the belly boppers remained.
It became clear to Jon that the Witiko’s initial shots had not been lucky but well-planned. They had known exactly where to hit, and now remained above the dreadnought where the belly boppers could not reach them.
Unless the Stingrays decided to fly under the Excalibur, Jon could only use his heat-seeking sidewinders to defend his ship. The damned things could pinprick him with near impunity.
Two of those sidewinders closed on targets, one for each Stingray. Brewer watched via telescopic cameras as his shots zeroed in on the powerful rear rockets of the alien fighters.
Closer…closer…
Both Stingrays ejected heat flares, completely fooling one missile but the second hit, causing a glancing blow to one of the attackers and damaging its hide.
"One hit, one miss," Stanton offered the play by play. He did not bother to share with Lori that only four more sidewinders remained at her husband's disposal…
…The aliens shot through a thin band of wispy cirrus clouds, hovered for a moment, then descended at faster and faster speed. The Excalibur continued its course at an altitude of nine thousand feet. Puffs of smoke trailed behind from wounds already inflicted.
Chancellor D'Trayne personally commanded the lead fighter and used the plans provided by President Godfrey to ensure each strike counted. And while he still respected the power of The Empire's flagship, he felt confident in victory. His supply of missile-diverting flares remained high and as long as they did not wander underneath the dreadnought only the ship's Vulcan-style Gatling guns posed any threat. A threat this pass intended to eliminate.
Sharp beams of concentrated energy and light shot from beneath the alien vessels and drew across the port side of the battleship. Like a scalpel, those beams cut into defensive batteries causing a series of secondary explosions as ammunition caches burst.
More trails of smoke came from the Excalibur as the Stingrays turned their backs and ascended into the heavens once more…
…On the bridge, more alarms rang and messages flashed across Jon's screens. He fired two more sidewinders but neither found their target.
"Jon," Stanton stood just outside the brain's tube-like station of monitors, keyboards, and touch screens. "I think we've had it. Withdraw and maybe we'll get free of this."
Brewer insisted, "No! We're getting close. That's why they're here. I'm not giving up."
"Now, well, I admire your determination but there comes a time to live to fight another day. If we can get back to the shipyards I can fix her up."
"Bull shit," Jon answered as he watched the alien craft reach their ceiling and-for a few precious seconds-pause. "When we head back it'll be the Philipan waiting for us and Hoth will shoot us down. We must push through."
"We can't! Those fellows are carving us up like a Thanksgiving Turkey! They know exactly where to hit us!"
The Stingrays descended again. This time Jon did not wait. He managed a clear lock on the one already damaged and launched his last two sidewinders.
A volley of flares deceived the first missile, but the second hit square in the Stingray's face. The alien ship fell into a flat spin. Jon watched on monitors as aerodynamic stress tore it into three silver and black chunks. Fiery debris fell into the Atlantic.
"Splash one!"
Before the bridge crew could cheer this victory, the remaining enemy cut its beam across the hangar doors ripping it open like a can of sardines.
"You're out of missiles, Captain," Stanton told Jon.
With no heat-seekers remaining and the top side boppers out of action, the Excalibur no longer possessed the means to disable the remaining Stingray as long as it remained above the ship.
"Pull us out," Stanton repeated. "You've done a good job. No, a great job. But you've only got the belly guns and I don't think the Chancellor is going to take a peek up our skirt."
Jon stood on the platform at the center of the bridge surrounded by advanced combat technology yet he felt helpless, like a turtle flipped on its back.
Obviously D'Trayne had inside information on the dreadnoughts. He found it incredibly aggravating that his mighty dream could be brought to its knees by such a relatively weak foe. He understood how Goliath must have felt. Or that turtle, on its back.
Wait a second…
…Another laser blast from the Witiko Stingray tore away Steel Plus plating along the starboard side. Then the enemy arched skyward seeking the shelter of altitude again, like a dive bomber completing one run and prepping for the next……Jon removed his head set and leaned out from his command center. "Brett." Stanton stepped close. "Brett. I want to tumble the grav generators." Stanton's face drew blank as if Jon spoke Japanese.
Jon repeated, "We talked about this. Back during the christening ceremony for the Excalibur. Me, you and Omar."
Stanton squinted and muttered, "Tumble the grav generators? I think I remember us joking about that." "At the reception after the christening, you and Omar said it was possible. Omar sketched it out on a cocktail napkin." "We were drunk!" "You said it could work."
"Jon, I know what you're thinking. But no, now, wait a second, there isn't any way even with it fully reversed that we'll hold our altitude. The generators just aren't made that way."
"We'll fall, but not fast," Brewer insisted. "We can switch back as soon as I get a shot. Christ, Brett, there's no other way!"
Jon stared at Brett Stanton with eyes allowing no room for discussion. Eyes that said they would either win the day or die trying. There would be no retreat. Brett ran a hand over the back of his neck as if massaging away an ache. "Okay, look, I have to time it right with our engineering guys downstairs. Give me a second." "You've got two seconds, Brett." As Stanton walked away from the command platform Lori asked him, "What is it Jon wants to do?" "He wants to commit suicide." The Captain's voice echoed through the mainly empty ship, "Set condition Red G. All sections, set condition Red G." Lori asked, "What does that mean? Condition Red G?"
"It means everything has got to get strapped down right away. Clamps on the transports, patients in sick bay will get buckled up, and you'd better find something to hang on to, Mrs. Brewer, because your husband is about to do something this ship wasn't built to do."