The loosened missiles flew in all directions, but as she reasoned, several of them homed in on the Mir and swiftly armed. In seconds, the Mir convulsed with explosion after explosion, as several missiles found their intended mark.
Part of the Martian ship’s hull caved in, while a few large pieces were blasted outward. A halo of energy then emanated around the doomed cruiser and evaporated into space. It was then that Selena saw bodies and debris littering the area around the Martian ship.
As Selena watched, her pleasure grew. She reveled in the damaged her salvo had produced upon the Mir. “Bye-bye Trager,” Selena smirked, “have a nice death!”
Suddenly, Darius eyes widened as the laser weapons of the dead ship fired again. Unbelievably, the Martian cruiser holed the forward electromagnetic disc of the Quinton in reprisal.
“Neither me or my ship dies that easily!” Trager’s voice filled the air from the intercom with rage. “FIRE!” he yelled out a second time.
Again the Mir’s weapons energized and hammered the rearward electromagnetic disc of the Quinton.
“ADMIRAL!” cried out Captain Renee, “SQUADRONS OF ENEMY DESTROYERS ARE APPROACHING FAST!”
“GET US OUT OF HERE!” hysterically shrieked Admiral Darius.
But Renee was already setting the Quinton’s course for retreat and its engines to flank speed. The huge dreadnought then spun around and plowed its way free of the battle, damaging a few more of its own ships as it raced towards O’Donald’s advancing division.
Trager sighed with relief as the huge Earth ship accelerated away. As he looked about, the bridge of the Mir was devastated.
It had taken a direct hit from a missile on its upper starboard quarter. The blast had ruptured and twisted the metal, while showering the interior with lethal fragments. A large part of the bridge crew had died in that moment, along with the ship’s power and artificial gravity.
Bodies floated and slowly spun in a weird ballet of death. Their droplets of seeping blood filled the interior’s space in colorful speckles of red rain frozen in time. Yet as the officer mourned the death of so many, he was grateful that he was not among them.
Trager owed his life to a rupturing armored plate, which had fallen between him and the detonation. It redirected most of the explosion forward in an enormous concussion, leaving him and a few other crewmen nearly unscathed. The ship, however, was doomed.
Trager knew the Mir had been mortally wounded in the missile attack. Only the localized power to the weapons remained—and the two shots he used were all he had left. He wished he could have done more.
“ABANDON SHIP!” he ordered in attempt to save the rest of his crew. He then grabbed the unconscious form of Vanessa Parks and floated her out towards the life pods with him.
* * * * *
As the Crazy Horse killed another Earth cruiser, Wakinyan spotted the last surviving Earth ships breaking away from the battle and making a run for the second fleet now converging. Within moments, he ordered the Martian fleet in full pursuit. The odds were now more even, and there were still a few more surprises left. A chance at victory loomed before the warrior. Wakinyan knew, however, that all things are uncertain until they’re over. Regardless, the end of the battle was less than an hour away.
* * * * *
Chapter 26: The Last Sortie
As the furious space battle was being waged, other minds reached out and touched the thoughts of both the Earth cyborgs and Martians alike. The Indra studied the combatants intently from their now fully repaired and operational warship, analyzing the strategy and any other contributing factors of the struggle. The information was invaluable since they had their own vision on how this conflict was to end.
The attack on the Indra ships had been a catastrophe in the making. It had triggered something within the hearts of the aliens—something they had not known for many millenniums.
Primordial urges and feelings that brimmed with fury and revenge awakened within the ancient race. The stupidity, arrogance, and baseness of an abomination resulted in the deaths of many of their kind. And this most certainly demanded not to be tolerated in the least.
Driven by this need for retaliation, the Indra methodically calculated the strengths and weakness of both sides. Finally it became of no consequence, however, as both forces spent themselves in their contest. The Indra drew their plans of intervention. In bright flashing and shifting rifts they made of hyperspace, they called out through multiple dimensions and summoned more of their ships to join them.
* * * * *
“Thirty-six ships, Admiral!” the command and control computer of the Ruthann reported to Admiral O’Donald as it hovered before him.
“Are you sure?” the pasty face Earth fleet cyborg officer asked unbelieving.
“Yes, Sir,” the computer held absolute to its count.
“That’s all that is left of Admiral Darius’ command?” Admiral O’Donald questioned again, completely shocked at the catastrophic military engagement.
“Affirmative, Sir,” the computer repeated.
The multitude of explosions within the asteroid belt nearly pegged the Ruthann’s sensors. What’s more, he saw an inextinguishable fire that lit the horizon with ships ablaze and burning out of control.
O’Donald was dumbfounded as to how Selena’s division could have been caught and destroyed so easily, and there was more bad news. With the destruction of Selena’s fleet, the Martians’ counter-strike was about to fall upon him. Furthermore, the odds were basically even. With maneuvering restricted by the asteroid field, which hovered just below his division of ships, it promised to be a most bloody fight. However, the admiral gave serious thought to the problem and came up with his own alternate strategy.
After given the order to attack by Selena, his ships were deployed in a basic battle formation of twenty short columns in seven rows. He believed in simplicity and tried-and-true methods rather than relying on technology and this was the ideal situation to prove it.
“Crossing the T” was an old naval tactic to where warships delivered a massive broadside to the opposing forces attacking in a head-on frontal assault. As O’Donald studied the Martians ships pursuing Selena, he grew confident that this ploy would work. Using the asteroid field to his advantage, the Martian ships were to be caught in their own trap. Unable to maneuver, he envisioned their total destruction as they either continued straight-on into his guns or tried to flee by pulling upwards and away.
“Computer,” O’Donald addressed “Give the order to the task force to begin an immediate 270 degree turn to port, back in the direction we came from.
Captain Lunda was somewhat perplexed by the action. “Are we retreating, Admiral?” she questioned.
O’Donald smiled slyly. “No!” he flatly stated. “With a little luck, it will look like we’re going to run. But what we’ll really be doing is forming a massive gunline using every ship together in rows. All our weapons we will be brought to bear on the Martians in a massive broadside! Blocked by their own asteroid field, they’ll have no place go!”
“But what about Admiral Darius’ ships?” Captain Lunda asked puzzled. “They’ll be in the direct line of fire.”
O’Donald’s smile grew. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re nothing more than bait. The Martians would never guess that we’ll fire through our own ships,” O’Donald informed Captain Lunda. “Selena wanted glory. Well, she can have it—posthumously!” O’Donald chuckled.
Suddenly, the Ruthann’s computer blared out a loud caution, “WARNING! GROUPS OF MARTIAN FIGHTERS APPROACHING FROM BOTH THE PORT AND STARBOARD QUARTERS!
“HAVE ALL SHIPS PREPARE TO LAUNCH FIGHTERS!” O’Donald responded to counter the not so unexpected “hammer and anvil” threat of hitting both sides of his fleet simultaneously. But suddenly the Ruthann shook from a detonation near to its bridge. The cyborg admiral fell to the deck as an explosion violently swayed the deck.
“ADM
IRAL, A THIRD FORCE HAS ASCENDED FROM THE ASTEROID FIELD DIRECTLY IN THE PATH OF THE FLEET AND IS LAUNCHING MISSILES!” the computer abruptly warned of the unanticipated enemy attack.
O’Donald cursed his stupidity and quickly sprung to his feet still slightly shaking. “WHAT ARE THEY?” O’Donald demanded to know composition of the new menace.
“SHUTTLES!” the computer informed.
* * * * *
“That’s for you, dad,” General Franks whispered to himself, remembering how his unarmed father was mercilessly cut down in front of him by Earth security forces on Mars. Franks savored the moment as his shuttle force of leathernecks partially repaid the Earthers for some of the brutality the Martians had suffered at the Earthers’ hands. But the unleashing of all of their big ship-killing missiles was only the beginning.
It had taken over twenty minutes to block the advance of the second division of Earth ships. General Franks had to constantly compensate and shift his intercept point of his strike force. The Martian Marine had his shuttles barely skimming the top of the asteroid belt to avoid detection, however; it had made maneuvering somewhat hazardous. As O’Donald’s fleet altered its course several times, Franks had come close to losing a few of the small craft.
Miraculously, however, the entire marine force now sat directly in front of the advancing Earth ships. As Franks gazed upon his viewer and watched the last of the rockets streaked quickly into the unprepared formations and explode, he grinned, for fate had been most kind. Because of the unforeseen circumstances of the Earthers dividing their fleet coupled with his own initiative of arming every shuttle he could lay his hands on, the marines’ roll in the battle had changed from one of diversion to a needed strike force. But that was only the opening salvo.
“NOW, TARA!” Franks shouted over his microphone.
* * * * *
Admiral O’Donald was outraged by the sneak attack. Although he had only lost fourteen ships in the assault, thirty-two more were damaged. This included the Ruthann, which took a hit on its port side. For this indignation, he prepared to obliterate the tiny marine force.
“ALL CRAFT TARGETED!” the Ruthann’s computer called out.
“READY TO FIRE ON MY COMMAND!” O’Donald readied his ships to counter-attack.
Suddenly, Captain Lunda eyes spied the initial signs of jump points forming on her scanner. Quickly she yelled out, “ADMIRAL, SHIPS ARE APPEARING OUT OF HYPERSPACE!”
“WHERE?” O’Donald urgently needed to know.
“DIRECTLY ABOVE US!” Lunda hysterically yelled back.
O’Donald’s mind fluttered in confusion. “Destroyers?” he frantically questioned.
Lunda slowly turned to her superior unbelieving. “Martian freighters!” the stunned cyborg female answered.
* * * * *
Guided by General Franks, Tara brought her entire task force out of hyperspace and into the battle. They appeared as several well-gapped and staggered rows a few hundred yards above the Earth fleet. And as the freighters made the jump, every cargo bay door had been opened previously—and all mines activated.
As the Martian ships stabilized from the dimensional crossover, the mines, which they carried, flooded out from their cargo holes and fell upon the second Earth fleet like hailstones. In fiery eruptions, they blasted the ships from Earth. The Earth vessels faltered, as many blew apart and their formations began to scatter.
It was at this point that Flight Leader Boussard and General Franks’ forces charged headlong into the disorganized flotilla. With missile canisters and plasma cannons blazing, they attacked bravely and recklessly.
Rocket after rocket poured out from their small space vehicles in terrible retribution. Each time they loosened a projectile, another Earth ship was holed, severely damaged, or destroyed. Hysteria gripped the ranks of the Earth crews, who immediately took control of their ships from their own computers and broke away from their squadrons. The gnats were stinging the elephants into a frenzied stampede.
O’Donald’s ships maneuvered violently to evade the being hit, some even chancing the asteroid field, itself. But because of the sharp erratic course changes, the Earth ships were not able to launch any of their drone fighters. Those that attempted to do so had their own fighters slamming into the walls of their own launch bays and blowing up as they took off. The panic increased.
The utter chaos, confusion, and destruction of the battle that lay before Selena were unbelievable. Nevertheless, she vectored the remnants of her division through the middle of O’Donald’s flotilla. With virtually the entire Martian fleet intact and pursuing close behind, there was no other choice. She hoped to lose the Martians in the intense combat—and make good her own escape. She gave no thought to Admiral O’Donald’s plight and pushed the Quinton and its shot-up escorts as hard as she could. Seconds later, they plunged through the heart of O’Donald’s distressed armada.
Selena’s panicky withdrawal created even more pandemonium, as they entered. Several ships collided head-on, while driving others to frantically veer off in haphazard directions. The mad retreat became a route, and any hope of victory lay broken in a trail of wrecked ships, dead bodies, and debris.
As Wakinyan closed in for the kill, he held no pity. These murderers from Earth sought annihilation—he was about to give it to them.
“FIRE AT WILL!” Wakinyan commanded his fleet.
In deadly salvos, the Martian ships initiated a withering bombardment that blew apart every Earth vessel close to them. They then penetrated the mass of Earth ships, turning the battle into a melee.
Laser bolts, plasma tracers, and missiles filled space in every direction. Explosions and death were everywhere, for there was no safety within this gale of conflict.
* * * * *
Both Colette’s fighter and her wingman darted through the maze of destruction looking for another target. Their flight alone was responsible for damaging many enemy ships, while killing several others. But because their mission was to cause total havoc and distraction where they could, the flight broke up into individual elements of pairs to attack as many ships as possible.
Separated from the rest of their squadron, the two carried only enough missiles between them for one last sortie. And Colette was resolved to make them count.
Breaking through a gauntlet of burning and wrecked ships, Colette’s eyes were instantly drawn to gigantic vessel swathed in crimson red. It was the biggest warship she had ever seen, and it was taking on several Martian destroyers as well as fighters.
As she studied the great red behemoth while it obliterated its foes, it seemed to reach out to her, like a skeletal hand reaching up from the grave. It frightened her deeply, but her eyes were hypnotically locked on to it. The auburn woman then realized that this was where it was supposed to end.
Although something inside her told her to run, the brave and proud woman would not yield to the fear of death. Instead, she would face it as she had always done, carrying the passion life and the hope of another day within her heart.
“There, that big one at ten o’clock low!” Colette called out to her wingman, Bill Collings.
Collings quickly jerked his head to look. His eyes swiftly fixed upon the dreadnought engaged in multiple battles. As he studied the huge ship, a dark sensation also came over the male pilot as well. The gigantic battleship became a dark specter, and it shook Collings to his very core. A fear he had never known before was upon him, and he shuttered in his seat at the very thought of attacking it.
“Boosy, I’ve got a real bad feeling about this one!” he confided to his friend. “We’ve done enough! Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“We can’t just cut and run!” Boosy tried to reason with him as much as with herself. “Bill, look around you. This battle hangs by a thread! We’ve got to do what we can!”
Bill gave a quick sob. “Boosy—that thing scares me!” Collings confessed.
Boosy’s eyes winced in emoti
onal pain. “Bill, if it’s our time—it won’t matter where we go. We won’t live a second longer!” her voice was shaky, while her eyes streamed a few tears. “But I rather die knowing that I did the best I could! If you want to cut out—go ahead! I won’t hold it against you!”
For a moment, there was no reply from Boussard’s wingman. But then a faithful answer suddenly crackled over her headphones. “Boosy—we’re in this together! I’m right with you, Boss!”
Boosy gave a faint smile, “Let’s do it, then!”
Abruptly, the two fighters did a lag turn, which transformed into a spiral dive. They then started their attack run against the Ruthann.
* * * * *
Just after the Crazy Horse had finished off the Earth frigate Barak, Wakinyan spotted the Ruthann atomizing another Martian destroyer some distance away. Skimming the very top of the asteroid field, the huge ship was utilizing the big meteoroids not only as cover, but to break-up any Martian attacks by funneling them into planned kill zones. There was no doubt that its command office was a veteran and a real pro that would savage any Martian who dared to attack him.
It was then that Wakinyan noticed the two Martian fighters assaulting the Ruthann using a Thatch Weave Pattern. The Crazy Horse’s scanners quickly identified the two Martian fighters bent on suicide.
“BOOSY, NO!” yelled Richard. “WARN THEM OFF! WARN THEM OFF!” he shouted at Randall.
“I’M TRYING!” Jim bellowed back. “BUT THERE’S TOO MUCH INTERFERENCE!”
Once again, Wakinyan jumped out of his command chair and dashed to the helm controls. “OUT! NOW!” he ordered the helm’s man. A moment later, the Crazy Horse went to full thrust, as it turned sharply towards the Ruthann.
* * * * *
For a moment, Colette thought they would be in and out before they were spotted, but a second later, the space around her craft was filled with intense pulse laser and plasma fire. She hoped that the weave maneuver would counter any laser tracking, but the Earthers were firing methodically in blanket patterns. The tracers lit up full sections of space and it became a question of time.