Assault: The Globur Incursion Book 6, page 35
Brown stared intently at the flag plot as TF16 hammered the remaining Globur destroyers until their power output fell to zero. He weighed his options.
He had two choices. They could stay aboard and hope that the Globur ships would miss, or he could order Wallachia abandoned. The thought of abandoning Wallachia left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had flown his flag from this very ship for too long.
He worried that the survival pods would not get far enough away. If Wallachia was successfully rammed, the resulting fireball and shockwave could destroy the survival pods. That was a difficult call since the ship’s AI was not sure what a safe distance was. Worse, if any Globur survived, they would destroy the survival pods.
Brown did not like the idea of abandoning ship, and that meant that Wallachia or the Globur ships had to shift their course. He commed Wallachia’s captain.
Captain Kallow’s image appeared, and he looked grave. “I know, Admiral. You want to know if we can get underway. The answer is quite simply no. We can get the reactor up, but the gravity drive took some heavy damage in the final attack. Wallachia needs significant repairs if she is to move under her own power again.”
Brown felt his gut churn. “We’ll have to think of something, Captain. Those Globur wrecks are on course for ramming us. Even a direct hit with a capital missile wouldn’t totally incinerate them. What do we have left?”
“We still have two capital missiles left in Wallachia’s tubes, sir,” Kallow pointed out. “Those Globur missile hits did a good job of pushing us around. Maybe we just use our missiles to push the Globur off course.”
Brown frowned. “I should have thought of that. I’ll get on it. We need to get ready to abandon Wallachia if we can’t shift the trajectory of those Globur ships. Maybe the battleships can help out.”
Brown killed the link and had the AI model the idea. It was possible for the capital missiles to alter the trajectory of the wreckage headed their way. All the Globur ships had been destroyed. Only one of his battleships was in range. It could target one capital missile for each of the four Globur wrecks hurtling toward them.
Brown gave the order and watched the nearest battleship launch the last of her capital missiles. The sooner they hit the wrecks, the better the chance was that they could alter the course enough.
Brown watched as the capital missiles sprinted toward their targets. The wrecks were easy targets, but they were no longer regular shapes. They tumbled through space, and internal explosions made the tumble inconsistent. It was impossible to tell how the missile denotations might affect their trajectory.
The capital missiles detonated one by one, and the holoplot updated their trajectory. The attack was successful, mostly. The third wreck, a Globur cruiser, was still going to hit Wallachia. Captain Kallow came up on the comm. “Shall I give the order to abandon ship, sir?” he asked gravely.
Brown had flown his flag on Wallachia for almost ten years, and Kallow had been her captain for seven. “No, Captain, I believe it’s probably too late for that. I’ll use our capital missiles and try to deflect the wreck. Spin Wallachia so that our most undamaged shield quadrants are toward the Globur wreck.”
Kallow shot back a tight, “Aye, sir,” and killed the link.
Wallachia’s capital missiles were ready for launch, and the ship's AI completed the calculations that Brown needed. “Launch when ready,” Brown ordered the tactical officer in a voice burdened by tension. Timing would be critical. Brown hoped that detonating two capital missiles between the Globur wreck and Wallachia would push the ships away from each other, creating enough separation for a miss.
Brown felt the capital missiles launch as the tactical officer reported, “Missiles away.” They did not have long to wait before two antimatter fireballs blossomed into existence. The shockwave hit Wallachia hard, and her shields failed as the damaged carrier registered still more damage.
The Globur wreck was moving at high velocity. The holoplot only picked it up again after it had passed. “Missed us by 231 meters, sir,” the tactical officer reported.
Brown felt the tension evaporate from the flag bridge now Wallachia was safe. The damage to the carrier was extensive, but they were safe, having escaped destruction by the narrowest of margins.
Brown commed Pang. “Rear Admiral Pang, looks like our job is done. We’ll have to delay that drink. We have some repairs to do on board Wallachia. But we did hold the system. Well done, Pang, well done.”
Pang had a concerned look. “Are you alright, Admiral? That capital missile detonation was a good idea, if a desperate one.”
Brown leaned back in his command chair and looked down at his missing leg. “Other than still missing a leg, I’m fine. Perhaps I’ll get one of those peg legs like sailors had in the old days. It’ll be a while before we can get back to base where I can grow a new one.”
Chapter 39
TF17 remained at battle stations. Jones watched the engagement unfold between the other two task forces and the Globur battlegroup. Despite being heavily outgunned and transitioning into a well-constructed trap, the Globur had still managed to maul TF16. Again.
He had winced when he saw Rear Admiral Brown’s flagship take heavy damage. Wallachia was the last of the shield-class carriers. Their point defense had always been weak, and it showed in this engagement. More than a dozen attack ships had survived to launch their missiles at Wallachia. Eight had survived long enough to ram her.
Still, it was a decisive victory. Jones sighed as he took stock of the situation. We came here with three full Fleet task forces, and now two of us are badly damaged. TF16 isn’t even combat capable. Wallachia is adrift and needs a dock to repair that damage.
His gaze came to rest on the flag plot. TF17 still sat a good distance off from Khan. Although Rapier had made a successful bombardment run to support the Marines, she had damaged her gravity drive and was just now limping back to TF17. The Marine planetary assault transports were still holding positions.
Jones felt a brief surge of anger. We hold the system, but not the planet. The Marines are still in trouble, and Khan’s orbit is full of those damn Globur pods. Jones had been on the flag bridge for hours watching Rapier make her run and TF14 and TF16 repel the Globur attack on the system.
He knew they dare not pull TF14 from their position on overwatch of the system. While they had got plenty of notice before the Globur battlegroup had arrived this time, the Globur had proved unpredictable. If they got caught in the system by more Globur forces, there was no asteroid belt to hide in. They were unlikely to prevail. He knew Pang would agree with him on that.
Jones also knew that the Marines on the surface needed support, and comms were impossible. He could try firing a runner to send a message to the surface, but there was a good chance it would be picked off by one of the Globur pods. He felt his augmentation hit him with more stimulants to keep him alert and was keenly aware there was only so long that stims would keep him going.
Jones stood up. “Stand down from battle stations,” he commanded. The pumps began to restore the ship’s atmosphere. The armor would deactivate when they had finished restoring a normal environment.
Jones left the bridge, heading for his conference room. He commed Valkyrie’s captain. “Captain Jamal, meet me in my conference room.” Jones took a seat and pulled up the tactical data from the run Rapier had made over the Marines.
The picture was not a good one. The Marine position had obviously been overrun. While the strike had taken out most of the Globurs currently besieging the Marines, the scans showed another enemy force closing in. The plain was so broad that there was literally nowhere to go. Colonel Shaka had chosen his positions well, but there were no other features on the plain for hundreds of klicks in any direction.
Jones knew the Marines must be low on grenades and that they were likely exhausted since there had been very little time for them to rest. The scans showed the next Globur force would be on top of them in three hours. All they could do was reinforce their current position and hold on until the Fleet could support them or deliver their heavy weapons and supplies to the surface.
TF17 was in a position that would let them quickly insert for orbit around Khan. The problem was that there was no way to tell just how many of those Globur pods were in orbit. They had taken down dozens of them, but Jones had the sense there could be hundreds. Once again, the Globur had shown they did not think like humans and were well experienced in interstellar warfare. There was no way the Fleet could have secured and defended a planet this quickly.
Jamal came into the conference room just as Jones’s armor retracted. She looked tired. Everyone had been at battle stations for days now, and they still had work to do before they could rest.
“Grab us a coffee,” offered Jones conversationally. “We need to figure out how to take control of Khan before the Marines run out of time.”
Jamal moved over to the bulkhead and used her implant to have the food station make two coffees. “How about one of those sticky buns you like?” she asked as she waited for the coffee.
“Right,” replied Jones. “Let me have one of those. I haven’t eaten since we transitioned to Qdrive for the assault into the system. This augmentation is remarkable. I didn’t feel hungry or tired.”
“Well, you certainly look tired, Admiral,” Jamal shot back. “No doubt we’re all showing the wear. We got into the system with an attack that was very successful, only to get mauled in orbit around Khan. Those Globurs are a devious bunch. And now we can’t seem to support our landed Marines, trapped by the bastards.”
“It cost us a lot to take, and keep, the system,” Jones snarled in frustration. “We could lose it all because of these damn pods that we can’t detect.”
“We can’t try to get into orbit again,” agreed Jamal looking thoughtful as her dark brow creased. “We’d lose more ships,” she finished as she placed a coffee in front of Jones, returning to pick up the buns as their fresh-baked scent filled the room.
Jamal parked in a chair as Jones took a savage bite of the warm bun. “Look at these scans,” Jones said, nodding toward the scans he had up on the holodisplay. “The Marines have three hours before they are under attack again. I’m not sure how much time they have before the Globur wipe them out.”
“I suspect the only reason they are still alive is because those pods in orbit are waiting for us to try a rescue or something.” Jamal’s distaste for the situation was painted across her face in a sneer.
Jones wound back the recording to when the pods first started to activate. The BPL warheads managed to take many down before they could even fire. “It took everything we could think of to get Rapier through, and that was close. If we hadn’t been there to support her as she made for open space, the pods would have destroyed the ship.”
Jamal sighed as she took a long pull on her coffee. “Zenke did manage to identify many pods by diving into the atmosphere, forcing them to reveal themselves even before they powered up their weapons systems.”
Both officers watched the recording as Rapier sped across the face of Khan, surrounded by detonations and beams generated by the BPL warheads. Globur beams lit up Rapier’s shields as missiles arced in. Rapier’s point defense and interceptor missiles worked at maximum to turn incoming missiles into scrap.
“We have to get back into Khan orbit, or we’ll lose this system,” pronounced Jones. “And if there’s to be any hope of taking Khan, we need to save the Marine assault division. We have no idea how many casualties they’ve taken so far, but we need to preserve the fighting force.”
Jones drained his coffee. “I need to think.” He said past the last mouthful of the bun. “I want you to talk to the other captains and come up with some ideas or plans on how we can get back into orbit. We can’t move for the next few hours anyway. The resupply freighters are just about here.”
Jamal nodded. “Rapier is just rejoining us. I’ll get Zenke and the other captains together. We’ll come up with something. We have to, don’t we?” Jamal said pointedly. “I expect we’re going back into Khan’s orbit either way.”
Jones stood up. “We can’t abandon those Marines. This division was thrown together. It will take a lot of time for the Marines to generate another one. If we lose those Marines, any campaign to retake systems stops right here. That’s just not an option.”
“I understand the risks, Admiral. And it’s a big damn risk considering the damage we sustained last time we tried to settle into orbit,” Jamal finished.
Jones shrugged. “I wish I could consult with headquarters. We could send a ship to the Chard system. That’s the nearest system that has a Fleet relay, but the round trip is almost three days. We just don’t have that kind of time. Do what you can. We need to figure something out. Something new. The Globur will be ready for anything like what we did with Rapier. You can bet on that.
“I suppose this is what they mean by the saying ‘it’s lonely at the top,’” Jamal mused.
“Indeed, it is,” Jones shot back, flashing a predatory grin that was becoming a trademark. “I can consult with my peers. Brown’s carrier is adrift, and he’s wounded. About all he can do is think. Pang may have some insights as well. I like Zenke’s idea of detonating warheads to get the pods to show their position, but is that even feasible anymore? I’ll speak with the other task force commanders while you get the captains together.”
“Aye, sir,” said Jamal as she got busy setting up a holoconference with TF17’s captains.
Jones strode out, leaving the details to his very capable captain.
***
Sanderson had the Marines improving the entrenchments and defensive positions. No one was foolish enough to think that the battle was over. Alpha Company was closest to the apex of the bend in the river. They would pick up the approaching Globur first.
Sanderson was concerned that most of the heavy lasers the company carried had been destroyed in the fighting or damaged by the nuclear warheads that had also been their savior.
The river swept away the Globur corpses that had clogged it, but not before the Marines had stripped the bodies. They discovered how to fire the Globur weapons and added them to their arsenal. All the Marines had at least one assault rifle, Fleet or Globur.
Sanderson had not picked up a Globur weapon. He had tried one, but when he had fired it at a dead Globur, the beam had very little effect on the armor. That made sense to him. Globur should be able to defend against their own weapons, just like humans could.
What concerned him most were the large Globur and their heavy weapon. That, coupled with the beam platforms, could spell the end of the Marines. The division had experienced significant casualties, almost 2000 Marines killed or wounded. Wounded usually meant that their suit had also lost mobility.
There were suits moving around now that were missing limbs. Sanderson had been lucky. He had lost only a few fingers on his armored gauntlet. Those fingers were not his flesh. They only moved in sync with his that were hidden deep inside the arm.
Everyone had orange sealing foam marking gouges in their suit from the Globur claws. The hand-to-hand fighting had been intense, and without the kinetic and nuclear strikes, Sanderson had no doubt the division would have been lost.
He wished he knew what was happening in the system, why the Fleet was not in orbit. There had been no Globur ships other than those the Fleet had taken out before the Marines dropped. Ground defenses had got one of their transports, but Fleet warships were much more heavily armored and maneuverable.
Sanderson thought about the lack of support from the Fleet and their own Marine assault ships. The Globur have sprung some sort of trap. That bombardment pass was Zenke doing something desperate. Lucky we overshot our landing zone. If we’d been closer to the city where the Globur came from, we would’ve been annihilated by now. Wonder if any of the Khanians survived.
Sanderson was jolted out of his thoughts by his scanner, alerting him to the approaching Globur. It looked like a lot of them.
A transmission broke through on the secure emergency channel. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Blucher, commander of the Khan Marine garrison. We are in position to cover your withdrawal. Withdraw bearing 3400 mils. Umbrellas are up.”
Sanderson stopped, stunned. He had assumed the Marine garrison was at their base in Ulaan, not out here in the plains. His scanners suddenly showed a large force unmasking, coming out of stealth, along the bearing they had been given, almost directly opposite the direction the Globur approached. It did read as a battalion of suited Marines, deployed in a classic ambush formation. Most importantly, they definitely had the heavy weapons the division lacked. In fact, for some reason, they had more than a standard battalion complement of heavy weapons.
Orders began to pour in to withdraw. Alpha Company was to move first, being the closest to the enemy now. They had just a bit more than half an hour until the Globurs were on their position.
Sanderson saw that they could gain the advantage. “Move it, Blue Meanies! We got some support! Fall back by platoons! Move!” Sanderson tried to join up with Second Platoon as he dropped a probe. They would need to be able to see the Globur coming across the river for the ambush to have maximum effect.
A series of booming detonations came from the direction of the Globurs. Sanderson’s suit told him the umbrella had just taken out several tactical nukes inbound on the Marine position.
The Marine’s umbrella, official designation M46 Unmanned Mobile Battle Elevation Advanced Laser Array, was a heavy-weapons system that used drones launched upwards from an antigrav platform. They were single-shot rechargeable drones, but they had a beam much more powerful than anything a Marine could carry as they were mounted on an antigrav sled that carried a fusion reactor to power them. The drones were small and stealthed, making them hard to hit as they moved through the air.
