The Lost Fleet Box Set, page 51
part #1 of The Lost Fleet Series
“Fire our planetary bombardment missiles at the planet,” he ordered. From their scans, he knew two small cities were on its surface. “Stand by to release the Conqueror drones.”
“The range is too great,” warned his second in command. “Many of them will not make it to the surface.”
“But some will,” the High Commander said. “They will do their duty and hunt down the organics on the planet.”
-
Major Wink Thurman, the CAG for the Retribution, was leading the bomber strike against the Simulins. “All squadrons form up and pick your target.” One hundred and twelve squadrons were involved in the mass attack. “Each squadron, pick a damaged Simulin warship and hit it with your Shrike missiles. Keep your energy shield fully charged and focused in front of your bomber. The shields can probably take one hit from a Simulin defensive energy beam. We’ll be going in using evasive pattern S-6.” It was a weaving pattern to confuse enemy targeting systems and to prevent them from getting a firm lock on a bomber.
-
“I wish I was in my fighter,” muttered Lieutenant Riley over his squadron’s comm channel. “I never should have volunteered to fly this bomber. It handles like a truck!”
“Just fly the damn thing,” ordered Captain Julie Brice, the squadron leader. “Quit complaining. We have a Simulin escort cruiser to target. Don’t mess this up, or you’ll answer to me later!”
Julie looked ahead and took a deep breath. Space was full of mass particle beam fire, and now the Simulins were firing back. Numerous fiery explosions dotted space around Gaia, and she knew those were particle beam satellites the Simulins were targeting. A larger explosion off her port side startled her. Looking at her small sensor screen, she saw the green icon for battlestation B-14 vanish. The Simulins had taken out one of the forty Type Two stations defending Gaia.
“Missile launch detected,” warned Rear Admiral Marks over the general comm channel. “Particle beam satellites are firing on the inbound missiles. Talons, target any leakers.”
Julie shook her head. If those were sublight missiles, the Talons couldn’t touch them.
As if reading her thoughts, Rear Admiral Marks’s voice came back over the comm. “Missiles are slow movers, probably some type of nuclear bombardment missiles. Don’t let any of them reach the surface!”
Julie felt her bomber shudder as the defensive screen glowed brightly. A Simulin energy beam flashed by, and she grimaced as a bomber in her squadron was hit and vanished in a brilliant fireball.
“Change to evasive pattern E-7,” she ordered. This pattern was more complicated and involved more gyrations of the bomber, as it dipped and swerved to avoid Simulin energy beams.
She groaned silently to herself as two more bombers in her ten-ship squadron succumbed to Simulin defensive fire. All too often, a brief fiery explosion told the end of another bomber. Scanning space outside her cockpit, she grimaced at the number of small explosions she could see in the attacking bomber formation. A lot of her fellow pilots wouldn’t be returning to the carriers.
They were coming up and over the fighting to avoid heavy weapons fire between the two fleets and the defensive grid. From her position looking down at the battle, she could see numerous small explosions moving toward Gaia. Those would be the missiles being intercepted. She just prayed they got them all.
A soft tone suddenly sounded, indicating she had a missile lock on her target. “I want a coordinated strike on target T-112,” she ordered. “It’s an escort cruiser, and my scans are indicating its shield is nearly down. Let’s take it out, people. Missile release on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”
Instantly, from the seven Anlon bombers remaining in her squadron, twenty-eight twenty-kiloton Shrike missiles arrowed toward the damaged Simulin warship. Eight missiles smashed into the weakened shield, which failed completely, allowing the other missiles to impact the battered ship’s hull. Moments later space was lit up as the escort cruiser was turned into plasma and glowing debris.
“Good shooting!” Julie exclaimed, pleased they had taken out their assigned target. Space all around them was full of detonating missiles. Looking at the tactical display, she could see other red icons designating Simulin vessels blinking out. She just hoped they were hurting them badly enough.
“Let’s head for home,” she ordered. A bright flash off her starboard wing shook her bomber. She could hear small pieces of metal ricocheting off the hull. Glancing at her display, she saw another bomber in her squadron was gone. “Go to turbos,” she ordered. “We need to get out of here!”
-
Above Gaia, the Talon fighters swerved and darted through space, firing their Hunter interceptor missiles at inbound targets. Particle beam satellites were also firing, wiping out many of the missiles in space, before they could even penetrate the defense grid.
“Admiral,” Commander Akira said. “We’ve taken out all the missiles, but they pulled our fighters to one side of Gaia. We have hundreds of other larger contacts passing through the defensive grid toward the planet. We might not be able to take all of them out.”
On one of the viewscreens, a closeup appeared of one of the contacts. It looked like a small shuttle, except more egg-shaped.
“Those things contain Conqueror drones,” Susan said emphatically. “Let General McGown know what’s coming his way. He has his own fighters and defensive batteries. Perhaps he can take out the ones we miss.”
-
On the surface of Gaia, around the three Marine bases and the two cities, laser turrets went into action. Dual ruby-red beams of energy shot into the air at the descending Conqueror drone pods. In just a matter of moments, the sky was full of fiery explosions, marking the destruction of some of the pods.
“Report!” demanded General McGown, as he stood watching the numerous viewscreens displaying the battle above the planet in the atmosphere. He was in the underground Command Center to coordinate the activity of his Marines as well as the fighters and bombers they had at their disposal.
“We have a hell of a lot of those pod things hitting the atmosphere,” Colonel Jarrins reported. “Our fighters are up, intercepting a lot of them with Hunter missiles. We’re firing additional missiles from the three bases, as targets are identified. A few have nearly made it to the ground and are being taken out by our laser turrets.”
“Will we get them all?” McGown could see several drones, close to the surface.
“No,” admitted Jarrins, shaking his head. “The pods have a minimal profile, making them hard to target, and they also seem to have some type of simple stealth shielding. A few will make it to the surface.”
McGown turned toward the Communications Center. Time to prepare the Marines who had already deployed for what might be coming their way. The Conqueror drones were deadly, but with the weapons the Marines were equipped with, McGown hoped the drones could be taken out swiftly. They were about to find out.
-
The Simulin High Commander gazed impassively at the tactical display. The battle had not gone as planned. The organics had laid a trap, luring his fleet into range of a powerful orbital defense grid. Then they had attacked his damaged ships with their small attack vessels.
“Status!” he demanded in a cold voice.
“We’re damaging their defensive grid, and we’ve annihilated nearly 39 percent of their small attack vessels,” his second in command reported. “The battle computer indicates the small vessels will not be a danger again for the immediate future.”
“Our fleet’s damage?”
“Twenty-two battlecruisers and eighty-two escort cruisers destroyed.”
“Enemy losses?”
“Light,” the second in command reported. “Their particle beams are tearing apart our ships.”
“What does the battle computer say about our winning a victory?”
The High Commander didn’t have to follow the recommendations of the computer, but failure to do so could result in him losing his command. The battle computers helped the Simulins to fight in the most efficient manner possible.
“Probability of victory is at 22 percent.”
“Prepare to withdraw,” the High Commander ordered, stunned by the low percentage. “We’ll regroup outside the nebula and bring in reinforcements. We now know their defensive setup and the capabilities of their warships. The next time we attack, we’ll annihilate them.”
The High Commander watched, as his orders were carried out. Very rarely did the Simulins encounter organics who could withstand one of their attacks. They would withdraw, analyze the data collected in this battle and then return. The High Commander had no doubt that, next time, the result of the battle would be far different.
-
“Simulins are withdrawing,” reported Commander Akira.
“Let them go,” ordered Rear Admiral Marks, exhaling a deep breath. “No point in losing more ships when it’s not necessary. We’ve already lost enough of our Anlon bombers.”
On the main viewscreen, white vortices formed as the Simulins jumped out. A few ships were obviously too damaged to escape, and fiery explosions marked where their vessels self-destructed.
“It’s over,” said Akira with relief.
“For now,” Susan replied, as she felt her tension ease. “What about the Conqueror drone pods?”
“We got most of them,” Akira replied, as he studied some data on a computer screen. “But a few did make it to the surface. General McGown is dealing with those now.”
Susan nodded. They’d won the first space battle, but she wondered how many more there would be ahead of them. Looking at the tactical display, she saw a large number of the particle beam satellites were missing as well as six of the Type Two battlestations. It was a victory, but it had a cost.
-
Jeremy breathed a long sigh of relief as the Simulin fleet disengaged and jumped out. Glancing at the tactical display, he saw that most of his fleet remained though there were a lot of ships that had received damage. Considering the force they’d been up against, they should consider themselves fortunate to have suffered so few losses.
“Simulins have jumped away from Gaia,” Ariel reported. “Rear Admiral Marks reports a few Conqueror drones may have made it to the surface.”
“General McGown can handle them,” Jeremy replied. He looked at Commander Malen. “Let’s jump the fleet to Gaia and begin repairs. The Simulins will be back, and we must be ready.”
“This was only the first engagement,” Commander Malen said with a frown.
“Yes,” responded Jeremy, knowing there would be more. “Possibly the first of many.” Unfastening his safety harness, Jeremy leaned back in his command chair. “Once they’ve analyzed this battle, they’ll make adjustments and return. Next time I’m afraid we won’t find victory so easy.”
The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. Studying the tactical display, he saw the Distant Horizon was undamaged. It took some of the worry off his mind, knowing Kelsey and Katie were safe. Now if only Andram and his fellow scientists would come up with a way to keep the Simulins out of the nebula, Jeremy’s people on this new world might have a chance for survival. If not, then Jeremy was afraid they would all die here, for there was no other place for them to go that would be safe.
Chapter Eighteen
Lieutenant Barkley and his squad were standing behind several concrete barriers with a laser turret tower behind them. They’d come to the surface of Gaia to help train more Marines to face a Conqueror drone. While their experience was limited, it was better than none.
“Damn robots,” muttered Sergeant Schneider, staring toward the line of trees, about one hundred meters away. “Why is it always robots of some kind? First the AIs and now these crab things.”
“Command reports at least two of their pod carriers landed three kilometers due south of us,” Lieutenant Barkley informed everyone.
Even as he spoke, a pair of Anlon bombers flew overhead. Moments later, several towering explosions occurred about three hundred meters back from the tree line. Flame and black smoke rose up into the air.
“They’re coming!” Private Jarman said, as he clicked the safety off his heavy assault rifle. He placed it into one of the firing slits in the wall and peered through the rifle’s scope to see if he could spot anything.
Above them, the laser turret rotated until its twin barrels were pointing in the direction the two Anlons had dropped their bombs.
Lieutenant Barkley watched as the two bombers slowly circled, seeking additional targets. Suddenly a small interceptor rocket appeared and arched upward toward one of the Anlons. Before the bomber pilot could react, the missile struck, blowing the bomber apart and raining flaming debris on the ground below.
“I’ve got two chutes!” yelled Private Julian Spencer, pointing to the sky.
Everyone looked up and were relieved to see the two pilots slowly descending toward the ground. They flinched as another towering explosion shook the ground in the vicinity where the missile had been launched, as the remaining Anlon dropped another bomb. Then it turned and headed back toward base, probably to rearm.
“Crap,” uttered Sergeant Schneider, when he saw where the pilots would come down. The two would land somewhere behind the line of trees, very near where the Conqueror drones were.
“Lieutenant, permission to lead a rescue mission?”
“Permission granted,” replied Barkley, nodding at Schneider. He knew if the Conqueror drones reached the pilots before the Marines did, they would die.
“Take Privates Spencer, Renaldo, Hays, and Brentwood.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the parachutes disappeared behind the tree line. Almost instantly the screaming began.
“Belay that order,” Barkley said, his face turning a ghastly white. He’d heard those types of screams before—on the planet where they’d found the drones during their early exploration when the Distant Horizon had first made transit into this galaxy. “It’s too late!”
Sergeant Schneider gripped his rifle tighter, as the distant screams faded away. He gazed in the direction of the tree line, contemplating a search for the pilots.
“They’re gone,” Barkley said, tight-lipped and angry. He looked around, considering his options. He had two full squads protecting the laser turret. In the distance, near other towers, he could see more Anlon bombers diving and dropping munitions. He had a sinking feeling more Conqueror drones had made it to the surface than command was admitting or aware of. He wondered just how many drones one of those pods held.
Movement in the trees drew his attention, as the first Conqueror drone appeared. The metal crablike creature was about four meters across with numerous legs and four appendages with large and dangerous-looking claws. It seemed to pause for a moment and then charged toward the laser turret and the Marines.
Barkley heard a loud humming noise, and suddenly two ruby-red beams struck the drone, blowing it apart. Before he could voice his approval, the entire tree line came alive, as dozens of the deadly drones emerged and charged toward the Marines’ position. He was stunned by how fast they were moving.
“Fire!” he yelled, seeing the drones would take only a few seconds to cover the distance between the trees and the concrete barriers.
From the protection of the concrete the Marines fired, laying down a heavy hail of automatic rifle fire that blasted the oncoming drones. Above them, the laser turret cycled and let out another blast, incinerating a second drone.
“More bombers are inbound,” yelled Sergeant Schneider, pointing upward, as he saw another flight of four Anlons diving toward their position.
Lieutenant Barkley nodded, as he kept the trigger on his weapon depressed. He was firing round after round into the advancing drones, but his ammo had little effect. The bullets weren’t penetrating! With dawning realization he realized the drones they’d fought before were an older model; these must be newer and better armored.
“Switch to explosive rounds!” he yelled, his Marines were in danger of being overrun. At the same time, the bombers made their first pass, dropping munitions on the charging drones. The bombs detonated, blasting huge smoking craters in the ground, and throwing dirt and debris over the Marines. With satisfaction, Barkley saw nearly half the drones had been taken out. “Continue to fire!”
Most of the Marines had switched to explosive rounds and now began taking down the drones. First one and then another collapsed, as they were blown apart or lost too many appendages to continue to charge the Marines. The bombers returned but couldn’t drop more bombs, as the drones were too close to the Marines’ position.
Barkley backed up as a drone reached the concrete wall he stood behind and crawled over. He fired an explosive round into the drone’s carapace, blasting a gaping hole in it. The drone collapsed and tumbled off the wall, no longer moving. On his right, he heard a Marine let out a piercing scream. Turning, he saw a drone grab a Marine between two of its pinchers and promptly tear him apart. Several Marines charged the drone, firing explosive rounds into it and blowing it to pieces.
The laser cycled again and blew a drone off the wall it had scaled. Barkley could feel the heat from the beams and stepped back even farther. His Marines were being forced back from the concrete firing walls and slowly retreating toward the laser tower. As they fell back, they fired a hail of explosive rounds into the advancing drones. Another Marine screamed as his leg was torn off, but he was spared a gruesome death when Sergeant Schneider ran up and placed his rifle against the drone’s carapace, pressing down on the trigger until his rounds penetrated and damaged the control circuits inside. The drone flopped down to the ground and stopped moving. Then the fighting died away.
“That’s the last of them,” Sergeant Schneider called out, as he scanned the battlefield around them.
