Liberating Neuros
Chapter 2
The fate of Marios and his attack
Marios looked back as his disc fighter turned and twisted for its rally point on launching. Counting his squadron emerging from the slab like hulk of their mother ship, the battleship Nigiria. They appeared one by one from the mile long forward hanger that made up the forward quarter of the massive vessel. From the other three hangers he could see the other attack squadrons funnelling out making for there own rally points as they waited for their escorting fighters.
If they were lucky, and the enemy was asleep, those same fighters would join them, using their heavy ground attack cannon to supply protective fire to protect them from anti-attack fire. He doubted that they would be that fortunate. The Republican Warships carried more fighters than Nigeria. That meant that the eight squadrons of torpedo bombers would be fighting for their lives against fighters as well. Eighty against eight hundred, few would get through.
Satisfied that the ten members of his squadron and the six fighters that were to try and protect them, were all circling in close formation with him, he changed his attention back to Nigeria for the signal to commence. He caught the flash signal. Not waiting for the computer to interpret the laser code, he peeled away and set course for their ambush and attack point. Behind him the rest of his squadron, without command, slipped back into formation. The fighters splitting to form a front and rear guard above and below them.
For the three hours, until they commenced their attack run, there would be no communications between the small craft. Stealth was their best chance of success. The energy absorbing hull would reduce the chance of detection. Communications blackout improved the chances further.
********
From the Bridge of Nigeria, Edrich watched his attack squadrons peel away on the circuitous routes that would bring them up behind the enemy. A total of one hundred fighters were going to undertake the impossible and the might of the Republics invasion fleet.
He dragged his hand through his dark hair and absentmindedly scratched the back of is head. He was troubled that the Republic had not considered sending in their fast and heavily armed destroyers. The Royal Fleet was not the force it once was, but it still possessed sixty destroyers and they would be a formidable force, even with the enemies superiority in heavy ships.
Eventually he turned to the yeoman standing dutifully behind him. "Signal Command Central by laser aldis. Tell them strike force has launched. Also advise that I believe that the Republic have detached their destroyers on a search mission for escapees. They may wish to forward that to Gresham."
*******
King Kanus intercepted the message as it arrived in the command bunker. Around him signallers waited patiently for his instruction. From here he was supposed to be able to direct the reactions of all the ground forces on the planet. Time would tell how effective that would be.
He read it almost impassively, then handed it back to the signaller. "I doubt Gresham will need the warning," He commented. "Pass the warning on to Star Gazer. Extend the search pattern of the guard frigates to cover their route. If they detect the enemy, they are to attack immediately."
"They can't compete against a destroyer, Sire!" A voice protested.
Kanus sank his solid frame into the command chair and viewed the young commander steadily. "I am well aware of what a detection frigate can and can't do, Commander. What they can do is buy time for our people to escape. If they manage to take an enemy with them, it will be a consolation prize. Nothing more."
He turned his attention back to the three vast tactical displays that dominated the control room. The left gave a three dimensional holographic map of their system. It clearly displayed the positions of the Royal Fleet and the approaching enemy. It would not display the approaching attack craft until they were either attacked or began their own attacks. The right hand display showed the planet and the carefully placed defences that were impatiently awaiting the arrival of the enemy. The third would become more important later, as it started to display local data as the enemies attack started to develop. He doubted whether he and the four hundred tacticians and communications experts in the room with him would be more than frustrated bystanders. There were no reinforcements that could be deployed.
Silently he closed his eyes and preyed for a miracle of salvation.
********
Elana checked her position for the final time and disturbed her commander from his deep concentration with her musical voice. "Time to form attack pattern. Steer 165.48 relative."
Marios grunted, flicked the lights as a signal to the rest of the squadron and peeled left, at the same time he opened the throttles to maximum, bringing his disc fighter to three quarter light speed. The enemy would see them coming as the boosters lit the sky behind them. But it could not be helped. After the careful stealth of the previous hours, speed was the essence. If they could cripple some of the ships before they could launch, then they would reduce the number of fighters. The next ten minutes would tell all.
"Signal fleet we have launched attack. Find who else is with us. Watch for their fighters," his commands issued like water as the enemy loomed into sight.
The massive star drives of four battleships became the soul focus of his attention amongst the thirty vessels that were now clearly visible, as Elana screamed. "They're launching!"
Out the corner of his eye he saw a dark cloud emerge from their target vessel. Then six darker ships, his own protection, raced past in a desperate attempt to engage before they could organise themselves. There was no time to think further, simply snap instructions to his squadron. "Blue Flight take the left. Red the right. The rest follow me for the centre. Spread out to divide fire!"
As he speed forwards the first flicker of anti-assault fire blossomed, not just from the battleships but from the other vessels that surrounded them. Not all of the fire was coming their way, he noted dispassionately. That meant that the destroyers were also attacking as promised. Despite that he saw a fighter ahead of him fly directly into a plasma bolt. It blossomed into lurid shades of yellow and red fire. It failed to move him, he had seen it to often.
The first searing white bolts of energy started to flash past his own frail craft. He twitched the control column, sending his craft skidding to the left as two bolts more flashed past the wing tip of the craft. Another twitch, had it lurching upwards then to the right as the enemy weapons started to concentrate on his small flight. Out the corner of his eye he caught glimpses of the rest of the flight doing the same. It would only be a matter of time before somebody made a mistake.
The fire from the ships stopped a sure sign of danger from the fighters. It gave him a moments peace to look around. He could see the three other craft that made up his flight, of the others there was no sign. They would be there some where he knew. The big pulsed plasma cannons were not accurate enough to target the fast and agile disc fighters.
Closer towards their target he could see sporadic green flashes from the escort fighters as they continued to tussle with Republican fighters. It suggested that they were still trying to fight. The almost continuous returning blue pulses showed just how badly out numbered they were. As he watched a yellow explosion blossomed. A fighter had crashed into the warship, who's fighter it was he did not know.
"Where are the enemy?" He demanded of Elana in desperation. "They must be behind us somewhere!
"I'm keeping an eye open for them!" Elana promised. "Four minutes to release. Can we reduce power enough to activate the rear shields?"
The Federation fighters were as fast as the laden disc fighters, so they could no longer rely totally upon speed and size. But to activate their defensive shields required them to reduce speed to make the energy available. To deploy full shields would require them to drop to less than quarter light speed. Rear shields alone would still leave them travelling at half and give them some protection. A little reluctantly he agreed.
"Fighters! 8 o'clock low!" His radio blared, startling him. Automatically he rolled the fighter so that both he and Elana could crane their necks to spot the oncoming rush. If there were enough of them, an attack from that angle would spell the worst possible trouble. Rear shields alone could not protect them from quarter attack.
It was bad enough, he spotted at least ten, now seemingly plunging down upon them. At the same time another alarm call informed them of a second and third wave diving in from other quarters. Without a word he turned the shields off again, feeling the surge of power from the engines as he tried to escape. It seemed to be a successful tactic, blue flecks of energy bolts converged behind them, where they would have been. A second disc fighter was not so lucky. The pilot had obviously decided to try protection over speed and had deployed full shields in a vain attempt to survive the onslaught.
From her monitor Elana watched in morbid fascination as the combined fire from at least a dozen Republic fighters concentrated on it. For a few seconds it looked as if it might survive, then almost slowly the disc fighter expanded in vivid hues of colour as it exploded.
"Rear shields up!" Marios called from the front seat. Almost a picture of calm in a storm. "Range to target?"
She sought her targeting display again. "15,000 Klicks. Enemy fighters on our tail. Screw right!"
The warning was almost superfluous, the small ship rocked violently as the first bolts hit the shields. Dutifully Marios slammed right rudder and left helm sending the craft lurching to the right with an opposite spin. It threw the enemy fighter off and the sudden deceleration had it shooting past. For a split second it fell within his own sights, enough for him to thumb his own fire button. It would not be in his sights long enough to do serious damage, nor could he go after it, but it was showing resistance.
From the back seat Elana was trying to concentrate on targeting, trying hard to ignore the blue flashes as the rushed past her cockpit view screen. "Range 10K, steer right 3, climb 4. Torpedoes arming." This was her role, to guide the pilot to his target. For the next 20 seconds she had total responsibility for their craft and it's mission.
"Right 3, climb 4, Torpedoes armed," Marios confirmed, applying the required course corrections.
Almost ignoring his confirmation, Elana settled to the final steps. "Target locked, range 7K Launch count 7, 6, 5, 4, All green, 2, 1. Fire!"
Automatically Marios triggered the fire button, then pulled hard on the flight stick. The ship lurched as the three torpedoes slid from their rails and fired, then again as more weapons strikes reigned upon the rear shields. Forcing him to reverse his previous actions.
"Torpedoes running. Impact 5! Cannon hot!" Elana shouted from her seat, her job now temporarily complete. Now she was an observer, frantically panning her sensors, looking for enemies. Snatched glances through the canopy looking for immediate threats.
The fighter lurched violently. "Low, five o'clock. Shields failed."
More rapid course corrections as Marios twisted the craft around, applying full power. They were running now. With the loss of the shields there was no choice. But he could shoot back!
The rapid manoeuvre had him charging towards an enemy fighter, small adjustments laid the targeting bead upon it. He fired and a long trace of green fire arced away from the ships pulse cannon bolts.
The enemy taken by surprise by Marios's rapid change of direction attempted to spin away from the oncoming fire. Marios predicted the manoeuvre and he watched impassively as it exploded. One down, but there were too many others. He was already spinning the craft to escape another enemy fighter.
"What happened to the torps'?" He screamed, kicking the rudders and firing as yet another enemy raced through his sights.
Elana took a glance at her counters. "Impact in two."
A disc fighter slewed past them, pursued by two more fighters, flames clearly visible in the aft section. Automatically Marios slew around to take up the chase, despite the doomed status of the other fighter.
It exploded even as he targeted the first of its attackers. His own weapons bringing it to a grinding halt as he struck the drives. He had no time to finish the job, more fighters were descending upon him, forcing him to twist away again.
"Detonation!" Elana roared in jubilation. "First two torps have blown. It looks as if they have taken out two of the drives!"
"What happened to the third?" Marios demanded. a third drive lost would almost cripple a battleship. It would be reduced to either weapons, shields or propulsion.
"I've lost it!" Elana began. But her answer was lost as they both gazed in awe as a huge blossom of light extended towards them, forcing them to shade their eyes. The next moment Marios was turning his craft and applying full power again in attempt to escape, as he saw the three attackers being enveloped in the growing fire ball and erupt in fire.
His ship has hit by a massive shock wave. For three minutes he found himself desperately trying to control the disc fighter as it was tossed and pitched like a falling leaf. Then it went quiet.
"What in Mercury happened?" He demanded, still shaking from the terror of their uncontrollable flight.
"I think the third torpedo," Elana said slowly. "It must have entered the exhaust port when it was open and hit the core!"
"But that is a millions to one chance!" Marios exclaimed in disbelief. "The passage into the core is only a metre larger than the torpedo!"
Elana defended herself as best she could. "It would explain why I lost the torp' and it is the only thing that could make a ship explode like that."
He gave up on that line of questioning for the time being. He still did not entirely believe the possible explanation. "What else went?"
Again Elana bent to her instruments. "We have crippled two more ships," she reported.
"They still have plenty of others," Marios observed. "Anymore of our squadrons?"
She shook her head. "I can't detect any. The number of fighters have been reduced though."
He grunted, forcing their craft into another tight turn as he spotted more fighters approaching. "There are plenty more of them as well! Time to get out of here!"
Setting them on course, Marios opened the throttles wide. Without the mass of torpedoes slung under their craft they would be slightly faster than the Republican fighters. He intended to put that to good use.
Behind him, Elana, happy now that the enemy were falling behind, calculated their course for their rendezvous with their rescue freighter. “Course computed and laid in,” she called finally. “Do you want auto-pilot?”
“Pilot engaged!” Marios agreed sullenly. It was procedure, but he would have preferred to fly it manually, until he became too tired to do anything. It would have stopped him having to think.
“You are thinking about Zaranray?” Elana picked up her pilots unwillingness and pushing her own jealousy out the way.
She loved her pilot, had done since he selected her as his navigator, but she had never plucked up the courage to tell him. Then the Princess had arrived to serve in the squadron and her tall curvaceous figure, melodious voice, long silky brown hair and large innocent brown eye’s had captured the blonde pilot. Plus the fact she was a Princess. It had left her without a hope. Not that she was any less attractive, she had told herself. She was slightly shorter, but no less well configured, her short hair was jet black and her eyes almost cobalt blue. She didn’t have the Princesses singsong voice or her ability with pleasant conversation, she admitted. But most of all, she did not have access to the Princesses wardrobe and the wealth to dress herself in continuously varying figure suits that displayed what she had so well.
She put the thoughts out of her mind. It was all four years ago and whilst she was not close friends with the Princess, they got on with each other and she had learnt to cope with the sense of hurt when he had declared his promise to her. “She will be safe and we will find her!” She declared faithfully.
From his seat Marios stirred, only half hearing what his navigator was telling him. “I don’t know where to look,” he sighed. “Gresham is a wily dog. He could be anywhere. And the Republic must have over two hundred destroyers looking for them.”
Three hours later they were able to see the flashes of weapons fire as they closed upon Neuros. The two fleets were engaging. There was a lot more fire from the Republican fleet.
“The line has broken,” Elana commented softly, suddenly she felt her eye’s burning with tears. Her home was going along with all the peace she had ever knew.
“The Admiral was right,” Marios agreed. “By the time we have rearmed and refuelled there will be nothing left.”
He altered course a little to keep them away from the conflict and they settled to the task of finding the freighter that was to provide their new home.
Issue: 3
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