Assault: The Globur Incursion Book 6, page 19
Worse, at close range, the humans would not be able to use their capital missiles, and their fighters would have limited effectiveness. The most effective advantage so far had proven to be keeping the Globur at range, outside the range of their beam weapons.
That could all be negated if they arrived and the Globur were on top of them, as previous engagements had seen.
Jones had been working with Brown and Pang, the commanders of the other task forces, to come up with a plan. He thought that they had come up with something that would give the Globur headaches. Time would tell.
Valkyrie was better than new. The carrier had been fitted with the latest point-defense clusters and shielding. The Fleet labs had also come up with some tweaks for the laser batteries and point defense that they felt would make them more effective against the Globur ships.
The fighter squadrons were all replenished, and the feverish pace of training for the pilots would not cease simply because they were enroute to the Mongolia system. They were spending endless hours in simulators to forge the bonds that made squadrons effective units. During their periods of recharging their quantum drives, the squadrons would be out in their fighters practicing tactics and interceptions.
Jones knew that every ship in his task force would be running drills incessantly as many of the crews were new. All the experience he had in TF15 had been rolled into TF17. Most of his crews were veterans. The same could not be said for TF16 and TF14. Only Rear Admiral Pang had many veterans in her task force, and those were spread thin after the defeat in the Mongolia system.
These constant losses are still costing us too many veterans, thought Jones. He frowned as he remembered the entire fighter complement from Pang’s flagship had given their lives so that the pitiful remains of TF13 could escape. Only so that they could turn around and assault the system again.
Jones thought about the mysterious fighter in the Markus Nebula and the weapons it had used. The quantum torpedoes had been “invented” by Doctor Umgabe. They should get their first shipment after they took the Mongolia system. The system where the research facility was located was closer to Gateway, so Rear Admiral Pang might get a shipment before she left. It would not be enough to fully equip all her ships, but any advantage could make a difference.
Jones had a lot to do, including the normal paperwork that besieged a flag officer. If we used any sort of paper, it would be halfway up the bulkheads, he thought with some amusement. The ship’s AI was good at sorting and prioritizing the paperwork and, most importantly, flagging the work he could send directly to his staff.
Jones looked down at the command bridge where Captain Jamal was getting ready to start a damage-control drill. One of the good things about having the flag staff cut off in “flag country” was that they could be left out of the drills.
Jones stood up and left the flag bridge as TF16 hurtled through space, each ship completely cut off from the universe in quantum drive. It would be a long journey to the Mongolia system, taking many such jumps. Jones thought about the first time he had taken his task force there and his meeting with Governor Jamyangiin. He had remained on Khan, something that had surprised Jones. I suppose we will find out what became of Governor Jamyangiin soon enough.
***
Sanderson was in a morose mood. He sat in the wardroom with loadout reports spooling across a data tablet, but he was not seeing them. He was thinking about how he left the Albion system. He had been home, waiting, when Lilly had arrived back from the lab.
He stood up slowly, and she had frowned, sensing something was wrong. He had shrugged his broad shoulders. “We got the word. We’re on 48-hour notice to move. We’ll be headed out in the next week or so.”
Lilly had stopped in her tracks. She glanced around their living unit as if looking for something. Tears formed in her eyes. Sanderson realized she was looking at the things they had accumulated in their home. The home they had shared. Now he was leaving.
“Don’t go, Homer,” she had said softly.
“You know I have to,” he said in a voice equally soft and pleading. “They need me.”
“I need you, Homer!” Lilly had replied, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears.
They had moved toward the other, meeting halfway, embracing. “I wish I could stay,” Homer whispered in Lilly’s ear. “I wish I could.”
Lilly looked up into his face, tears streaming down her face. “I know what you’re facing, Homer. I know how horrible these aliens are—how dangerous. I saw the recordings. I was there, on the planet.”
Homer Sanderson had felt as if someone was tearing the heart right out of his chest. He knew he was lucky to be even standing where he was instead of being another casualty.
“Look,” Homer started, hoping he sounded more positive than he felt, “I’m a company sergeant major now. I hang with the skipper and just give orders. I won’t be on the front lines. It’s a cushy job for a Marine. Planetary assault is a whole new game,” Homer forced a smile he hoped was sincere.
“You can’t fool me, Homer,” Lilly shot back, anger coloring her cheeks as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “I saw the ship you came back on. I’ve heard your Oxblood stories. Besides, you told me it would be months or even a year before your unit ever got deployed.”
“Well,” Homer had explained as he sat down on the sofa with Lilly. “That’s what I thought, but things got moved up. Some senators got an idea, and we got our orders. No one saw it coming. So much for having a plan.”
They had sat together with their arms wrapped around each other for a long time.
“I really don’t want you to go,” Lilly had broken the silence in a voice that cut deep into his heart.
“I really don’t want to go,” Homer had told her as he gave her a small kiss. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
Lilly had pulled back and looked at Homer as he pushed her hair away from her face. “You goddamn well better, Homer Sanderson. Or I will make you sorriest Marine ever to walk.”
Homer’s voice had almost failed him. “I love you—and I am coming back.”
Lilly had hugged him fiercely. They had remained like that for a long time. They had not known it at the time, but it was their last night together. The alert had come the next morning, and the rest of the time had been a blur of preparation and loading the new ships.
Sanderson was lost in thought as he remembered that last evening as he plowed through his paperwork. Karen Oxblood thumped down at the table across from him, pulling his thoughts back to the present. She was the battalion sergeant major. The most senior noncom in the entire battalion. “Sanderson, you look like someone just killed your favorite pet. If that face gets any longer, you’ll be scraping it off the deck.”
Sanderson let out a soft snort. “Just thinking about Lilly. It seems like we just didn’t have enough time together.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” agreed Oxblood. “The whole plan and mobilization happened pretty fast. A lot faster than anyone thought. But when politicians make a decision, it lends a certain urgency. That’s life in the Corps.”
“I wish I had stayed,” lamented Sanderson.
Oxblood let out a laugh. “And just how would that happen. Go AWOL? Hide out? Tough to miss a big blue Marine out there.” Oxblood shook her head. “She understands, Sanderson. She may not like it, but she understands. Besides, we need you out here. So, start acting like the kick-ass, tough-as-armor-plate Sanderson we need instead of some lovesick puppy.”
Sanderson laughed. “I am not lovesick—believe me. I just have some regrets.”
“She loves you a lot, you big dummy.” Oxblood stabbed her index finger at Sanderson. “Although I certainly do not see the attraction. Be that person she fell in love with. We’re out here trying to keep those people safe—even the prejudiced ones.”
“I guess you’re right, Sergeant Major,” Sanderson barked back with a widening grin and a glint of the old mischief in his eye. “And I know you like your partners dumb.”
“That is affirmative, Company Sergeant Major Sanderson,” replied Oxblood returning his grin. “Now toss that bullshit paperwork and show me your company bay. There are Marines that need motivating.”
“My pleasure, Sergeant Major Oxblood,” Sanderson replied with gusto as he stood, drawing attention from the others in the wardroom.
Lead the way.” Oxblood clapped Sanderson on the shoulder.
“Prepare to be dazzled!” Sanderson called.
“By what?” asked Oxblood as she followed Sanderson out of the hatch. “You call that an ass? Which part is doing the talking?”
***
Karl Zenke was in his quarters and office now that Rapier was in Qdrive. His quarters had been modified just like the ones on Phoenix. His bonsai trees were on a shelf that could close and maintain a stable environment, so the plants did not die when the pumps sucked the atmosphere out of the ship before combat. His trees gave him the escape he needed. Pruning them always seemed to soothe him.
His mind was not on the tree in front of him, though. Instead, he replayed the scene as he had led an attack against a mass of Globur near engineering on board Phoenix at the Markus Nebula. One of the issues with having augmentation was that it was almost impossible to actually forget anything. The memories were bright, stark, and terrifying. In the moment, he had not hesitated. The sight of the Globur boiling up the corridor like a malignant tentacle was unsettling, to say the least. Literally, the stuff of his nightmares.
He had been close to death several times since the conflict began. Rapier was the fourth and toughest ship he had ever commanded. Before the conflict with the Globur, ship armor had been something mostly associated with battleships and cruisers. It was too expensive to put on smaller, lighter ships. Now the new sword-class destroyers had armor as good as a cruiser and shields to match.
Zenke was disappointed that the new torpedoes would not be available for Operation Liberation. Still, three task forces against two Globur battlegroups still gave them a significant advantage. Not like the Markus Nebula. Things there had been pretty hairy.
Pang’s TF13 had gotten it worse. Zenke was fairly sure that it was the first time in a very long time that a Fleet admiral had to stand and fight for the ship alongside crew and Marines. There was no doubt that Rear Admiral Pang was a good officer. He wondered if she had nightmares, too, about what had happened when Dixmude was boarded, and they had almost been overrun.
He thought back to the Harlow system when the Marines had boarded a Globur destroyer-class ship and disabled it. How the Globur had chased them all the way back. He had to use the laser batteries, or the Marines would have been overwhelmed. He thought of the dark interstellar space outside the Alsace system and the holo footage of the Globur swarming out of the wreck of Ozu, still trying to get at the survivors the Marines had just lifted off. The black mass was lit up by the heavy, flickering, strobing flashes of the assault shuttle’s laser cannon chewing through it. Still, that mass of Globur had stretched out from the wrecked landing bay, reaching for the shuttles as they pulled away.
Zenke’s hatch let him know that Lieutenant Flint was requesting access. Flint always made the rounds after they had transitioned to Qdrive to make sure everything was running smoothly and the watch rotation was communicated. Zenke told the hatch to let Flint in.
Flint breezed into Zenke’s quarters and took the seat in front of Zenke’s desk as Zenke rose to put his small tree on its special shelf.
“I do love this ship. I’m sorry for what happened with Phoenix. She was a nice ship. But Rapier! Well, Rapier is something else. These new sword-class destroyers are like small versions of cruisers without capital missile launchers.”
“I like the new class, too,” replied Zenke. “I’m just a little put off by the fact that I’m still just a Lieutenant Commander, and this is my fourth command. Although, I suppose that could be punishment for getting the others destroyed or rendered scrap.”
“We’re always in the thick of things, it seems. Like I always say, Karl. You are a shit magnet,” Flint replied. “If something bad is going to happen, it happens to you—and your unfortunate friends,” Flint finished, indicating himself.
“You heard the grand admiral’s send off. We’re going to attack the Mongolia system,” replied Zenke, not bothering to challenge Flint’s comment. “We’ll have quite a few pauses to recharge our drives, and I’m sure that orders will be refined as we approach the target system.”
“About time we attacked them, if you ask me.” Flint crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. “Shoe may be on the other foot this time.”
Zenke nodded. “It did not escape my attention that we are now underway with virtually every available warship and the new planetary assault transports the Marine Corps just received. We seem to be throwing everything we have at them.”
“We beat them in the Markus Nebula,” Flint pointed out. “Pang beat them in the Ming system and in the Mongolia system. We have a chance.”
“I like that we are going after them,” Zenke replied. “But I worry they will have detected that reconnaissance mission. We still don’t know the range of the Globur detection system for vessels in quantum drive. If they saw the reconnaissance, even though it was five light-days out, then they’ll be expecting us. They might reinforce the system.”
“Hell they will.” A look of doubt flashed across Flint’s face. “Fleet Intelligence says that all known Globur forces are accounted for, and the forces in the Mongolia system represent the bulk of their combat power.”
“Right, Fleet Intelligence.” Zenke’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “They have managed to recon one system—the one we are headed to. They don’t actually know anything, and they aren’t the ones out here.”
“Still. We have a significant advantage. We should be going after these aliens so they’ll think twice before attacking another imperial system.”
“And I thought I was the rash one.” Zenke chuckled.
“Look, Karl. Sometimes you have to take a chance, and that’s not a call we got to make, but here we are. First system assault since the Cyborg Wars, over 300 years ago. We’re making history here, you bright shiny hero of the empire!”
“I would remind you that the first planetary assault in the Cyborg Wars did not go well,” Zenke said pointedly, raising his eyebrow. “I hope history is not as cruel as I think, Gordon.” Zenke sighed. “These Globurs do not give up easily. Have you talked to the Marine contingent commander about the redoubts they built into the ship?”
Flint nodded. “The lieutenant still wants to add some more and put in more automated defenses around engineering, so we don’t end up making a last stand there like last time. Maybe the captain would be able to sit out the repel-boarders drill. Pretty hard to top having a deck fall on you.”
“Right,” Zenke said, wincing visibly at the memory of how Phoenix was almost destroyed. “I’ll leave that in your most capable hands, XO.” Zenke smiled. “Ankle is fine, by the way.”
“Perhaps you can give the hero business a rest for a while, Captain. Although,” Flint held up his hand, “I know you are a slave to destiny.”
“You know, it takes a heroic effort to deal with a wisecracking smartass XO,” Zenke lit up with a grin. “We should get the crew down for some rest. It was a hectic time getting ready to deploy.”
“Your wisecracking XO has already seen to that, Captain.” Flint rose and gave a curt bow. “Perhaps you could take some rest yourself. It’s the middle of the night—Fleet time.”
“Breakfast?” Zenke asked.
“Your wish is but my command,” replied Flint as he headed out the hatch.
Chapter 21
Rear Admiral Jones was in a shuttle on his way over to Rear Admiral Brown’s flagship Wallachia. Wallachia looked almost quaint. She was the last of the surviving intruder class Fleet carriers. IFC Wallachia could carry only six squadrons of fighters. She had originally been the flagship of Brown’s old command, TF2.
In contrast, Jones’s flagship Valkyrie weighed in almost a quarter heavier than Wallachia and carried nine squadrons of fighters, allowing her to deploy three squadrons of light, medium, and heavy fighters. She also had the latest shield and points-defense systems. Wallachia had less armor on her hull, but she was slower than the new class imperial Fleet carriers.
It was tradition that officers meet aboard the senior flag officer’s ship. Rear Admiral Brown was senior to both Jones and Pang, who was also shuttling over, and counted Vice Admiral Stukov among his close friends. Ironically, when it came to the Globur, he was the least experienced. Jones also preferred an in-person meeting, particularly since he had not seen Pang in months. He had barely seen Brown since he had been ordered to the Albion yards to take command of TF16.
Jones linked to the shuttle’s systems and pulled up the nav plot. It was an impressive sight. The journey to the final rendezvous was over now. Three imperial Fleet task forces moved in unison through interstellar space while the last arrival, TF14, charged their quantum drives. It had been over 100 years since three Fleet task forces had even been in the same system.
Three full task forces and the Marine planetary assault transports. Sixteen large ships, each housing an entire battalion of Marines and several of their support companies. Support companies or not, it did not matter. Every Marine had a new mark suit, and every Marine was a fighter first. No exceptions. The entire formation was a group of synchronous stars gleaming in the weak starlight of the nearby system.
The forces coming from the Albion system had last been able to link with a Fleet relay in the Castellan system before they headed past and out toward the rim. Jones imagined that Brown had some bad memories from the Castellan system, but their orders had been to check in a final time. The download had been waiting, but there was no new intelligence and no new orders, just the usual Fleet requisitions and paperwork that clouded every officer’s day.
A light bump told Jones that the shuttle had set down in Wallachia’s bay. He stood up and moved to the hatch as it opened. Jones was surprised to see that Rear Admiral Brown had come down to the bay to meet him. Beside him was a large Marine.
