Galen stood and moved away so the technician could take his post at the terminal. Third-string alternate leaders from the four subordinate commands came in and occupied their respective terminals and Major Ross stood at the head of the conference table to lord over the operations center. The command chair was not yet installed, its delivery delayed by an administrative snafu in the logistics office back on Mandarin.
Galen and Tad had little else to do than sit at the conference table and stare at the main screen. The approaching bolt of synthetic plasma fired from the destroyer filled the screen, made pale green by the filter of the defense shield. Then it vanished in an audible crackle of static and a hair-raising sensation filled the operations center a moment later, for just a moment, and then it passed. The screen gave a clear view of the Mosh destroyer. It was a cylindrical ship facing sideways to bring its plasma cannon to bear, firing broadside at Alamo. A moment later the ship was again hidden behind the bright flash of its gunfire, the bolt of energy appearing gradually larger as it approached.
“Status?” Major Ross.
The fleet technician said, “Shield down three percent.”
“Okay. At this rate we’ll be out of shield in a couple of hours. Ideas?”
Tad said, “We can reduce shield power incrementally faster with each hit so that they think their weapons are more effective than they really are. Then we shut it off so they think our shield is destroyed and then we take out their destroyer with the laser cannons. Then we put the shield back up sooner and stronger than they thought possible.”
Galen agreed but knew it was his job to offer a different course of action for consideration. “Uh, keep the shield at full power and send up the interceptors to take out the enemy ship.”
The Sergeant from Sevin’s aviation command looked at Galen and said, “That’s what they want, to get us out there and ambush us. Not such a good idea. They could have plenty of firepower hidden on the other side of those rings.”
Galen didn’t mistake the Sergeant’s initiative for insubordination and was secretly proud of working with such a knowledgeable professional. But he couldn’t let the little punk talk him down in public. Galen said, “Hey, if you’re scared, just say you’re scared.”
“Enough,” said the Major. “Tad, you have the right idea. Aviation, have two interceptors ready to launch to scout the area around the destroyer in about…two hours.”
The Sergeant said, “Yessir.”
Another bolt of plasma fired from the Mosh destroyer struck the base defense shield. Major Ross cleared his throat and said, “That will take some getting used to. Anyway, switch me so I’m talking to everybody who’s at their duty station.”
Tad pressed a couple of buttons. “You’re on, sir.”
“Attention all and greetings. This is Major Ross, you’re supreme commander here on Alamo.” Major Ross smirked as he paused. “I’ll take this moment to tell you what I know about the Mosh, who at this time have a destroyer firing a particle cannon at our space port. They began as a slave race taken captive and selectively bred to serve as cheap labor by a Terran terraforming corporation, well over two thousand years ago. They revolted against their masters, killed them off and fled to the other side of the galaxy and started their own little confederation. They dug through the databases of the ships they seized and sought their own identity. They most physically resembled the natives of Northern Europe of Terra so they adapted the culture of the ancient Vikings. But don’t worry; they speak Standard just like the rest of us because just like us it’s the language of everything in their data bases. Since then they’ve organized as some sort of empire and are now expanding. Little is known about them as a whole but their military branch is hard and tough. They love to fight. Their equipment and their tactics are rugged, straightforward and conventional. We can and will exploit those weaknesses. That is all.”
Major Ross ran his right index finger across his throat to signal Tad to cut the transmission. After a nod from Tad confirmed the signal was cut, the Major sat down in a conference table chair and rubbed the top of his head with both hands for a moment. Then he looked at Galen. “Well?”
“It was a little sketchy, sir. Maybe a more inspiring broadcast right after we toast that destroyer would boost morale.”
Major Ross stared. “I was just about to say, you are off shift and you need to rest. We have to sustain operations; we can’t all stay up for the whole fight.”
“Yessir.” Galen stood and left the bunker. On his way to the chow hall he witnessed another plasma cannon strike that turned the sky green for a moment longer than before and the hair-raising sensation was a little stronger. A nervous civilian worker plopped standard rations onto his tray. Galen ate quickly because he wanted to get in bed before the next bolt of artificial plasma struck. He jogged to his quarters and sat on his bunk, relieved that the sensation from the next plasma strike didn’t affect him as much inside his metal shack.
Chapter Twenty Three
Galen didn’t realize he’d been asleep when his alarm woke him. He got up, showered, dressed, ate breakfast and had five minutes to spare when he entered the TOC. The plasma strikes had stopped. Tad was seated in the command chair at the head of the table in the operations bunker. “You missed it. They came and put in this chair. You could run everything from it, if all the wires and cables were connected.”
“So what? Did I miss anything important?” Galen sat at the table.
“When the shield dropped to eighteen percent we shut it off right after the next strike and in less than three minutes our laser batteries burned off the destroyer’s shield and punched holes all through its hull. Looks like a sieve now.” Tad used a control in the command chair’s armrest to put the image of the hulk on the main screen. More than a hundred holes showed all over its hull. From that distance the TOC’s optical sensors looked through the holes from nearly the same angle as the lasers that made them. The planet’s rings were behind the ship and their light made the holes easy to see. “Beautiful. Anyway, two interceptors are on their way to examine the wreckage and should be there soon.”
Master Sergeant Sevin’s voice came over the com link, “Aw, the hell with this!”
Tad pushed a button on the side of the command chair. “What is it?”
“Look for yourself.”
Tad pressed another button. Visual imagery from Sevin’s interceptor showed on the main screen and revealed a cluster of Mosh ships. Tad asked, “What are we looking at?”
Sevin breathed deep. “We see three light cruisers, six more destroyers, two scout ships and three really big troop transports.”
“Where are you?”
Sevin’s face filled the main screen. Tad was shocked at first and then realized Sevin had switched the view from his end of the com link. “I’m on their side of the ring where you can’t see me. We’re going to give them a bloody nose and then come back to base.”
Galen knew Sevin was one hell of a company commander but also realized he’d never be promoted. He was not real good at following orders but was good at getting results.
Tad stood, frustration on his face. “That’s not what, not…”
Sevin switched the view to a sensor he had placed to observe the enemy fleet. He and his wingman blasted off toward the Mosh ships. Sevin and his wingman concentrated their rail gun fire on a troop transport until it vented atmosphere and flames. Sevin’s interceptor launched a time-delay bomb that attached to the transport ship’s hull as he went by and then Sevin and his wingman spilt off at sharp angles and disappeared from view. The two Mosh scout ships pursed Sevin as he fled from the view screen.