Warrior One - Fleet Action Pt. 02

"All right, now we have some items to discuss before we make preparations to leave, the day after tomorrow. So let's get to it," Admiral Cook told those around the table. "Tomorrow will be an off day. Liberty at Tycho Under will be granted for all off-duty personnel starting at nineteen hundred hours tonight."

"Aye, aye sir," Ezra answered for everyone. All the Captains nodded at the information.

Ezra sat at a table in the Blue Moon Tavern in downtown Tycho Under at the Admiral's insistence, who sat beside him. There was a skeleton crew on the Warrior as there were on all the other ships of Fleet One and Fleet Four. Fleet Two ships were fully manned and on alert. The Blue Moon was probably the oldest and most decrepit bar in all of Tycho Under. It had been established in the first decade of the shipment of prisoners to the moon. That was one hundred and fifty years ago.

The Blue Moon was where the brass of the Fleet went to have a drink. The place was quiet. It was dark. And it had character. Ezra took a sip of his Irish whiskey and watched as two junior officers entered. One look and they turned around and left. The Admiral chuckled quietly. Other high ranking officers started to filter in. Connor MacDonald entered, looked around and smiled as he spotted Ezra and the Admiral. He slowly made his way to their table. The Admiral nodded and he pulled out a chair and sat.

"How goes it Connor?" the Admiral asked.

"Very well, Admiral, very well." A waitress appeared and Connor ordered an Irish with a water back. "How do they go with you sir.?

"I am well Connor, I am well," the Admiral replied nodding absently.

The three men sat quietly, sipping their whiskey and watching the tavern. Other officers entered, nodded at the three and found a table of their own. About an hour later the place was full, all seats at all tables found senior officers from Fleet One and Four. The Admirals Table now had six people sitting around just sipping whiskey and looking out over the rest of the Fleet. Finn Collins, the ship's doctor had joined them right after Connor. The rest at the table were Fina Dugan, Ossian Kavanagh, and Fleet Admiral Lonan Fitzgerald.

The night went as planned...quiet and without incident. About closing time Major Owens entered and made his way to Ezra. Ezra nodded and the Major pulled out the last chair.

"Report Major," Ezra said quietly.

"No major problems. Two minor injuries in the hospital waiting for transport to their ships. Sixteen in the Tycho brig awaiting disposition of their infractions. Other than that a pretty quiet night, sir."

"Good. The sixteen in the brig, are they all from the same ship?" Admiral Cook asked.

"No, sir. They represent about eight different ships."

"My compliments to the Chief Magistrate, if he would release them into your custody and forward the charges to me, we will take care of any discipline."

"Aye, aye sir," Major Owen replied standing and saluting the Admiral.

"No, don't go yet Major. Plenty of time, have a drink with us before you go."

"Thank you, sir." A waitress appeared with an Irish and water and set in down in front of Laff.

Smiling he sipped the potent fluid. He smacked his lips and smiled at the small shot glass before him.

"To your liking Laff?" Ezra asked chuckling.

"Yes, sir. Mighty fine, mighty fine."

Chapter 61

Warrior One led the way out of the solar system. Once the ship passed the orbit of Jupiter, the skeleton crew was placed in cold-sleep. Candle Steel, stood in front of his console on the bridge. A console far more flexible and capable than most of the crew knew. Given the order, he could control just about every function on the massive ship. In the olden days at the emergence of what was called video games, most of those games had what was called a "God Mode". Candle's console was Warrior's god mode.

The ship was accelerating smoothly now. Followed by the other ships of the fleet. As the great ship flashed past the orbit of Pluto, Candle made the jump to hyperspace. The other twelve ships followed him at the exact instant. Thirteen ships floated silently through hyperspace, constantly accelerating at one half sub-light thrust. Candle quickly checked all systems. Finding all systems nominal, he locked his station and retired to his quarters. Stepping into his cubical, Candle shut down for the long run up to the halfway point, some eleven days from now. The big ship started to shut down non-essential systems. Within minutes the bridge was dark, as were almost all other areas of the ship.

Once again the great ship started to wake from its slumber. The flip over at the halfway point had been automatic, but Candle had watched the maneuver from his cubical as a backup to the ship's massive computer. Lights flickered on all over the ship. Candle, along with about ten ships nurse androids woke and made their way to their stations.

Within hours, the crew was reporting to stations. Ezra wobbly legged made his way to the Captain's couch. Candle moved from the Chair to his console.

"Report please," Ezra croaked.

"Yes, sir. All systems nominal, sensors just starting to discern the system."

"Thank you, Candle."

"You are welcome, sir."

The bridge crew started to trickle in, taking their places behind their consoles. More than half of the bridge crew was still missing when Major Owens made his required appearance looking much better than he did the first time.

"Major Owens reports to the Captain, that all Marine personnel are present or accounted for."

"Very well Laff. Feeling better this time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go see to your troops, Major." Ezra waved Laff off.

"Aye, aye sir," Laff said turning and walking steadily off the bridge.

In the corridor, Laff halted and slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit, holding his head in both hands.

"Damn cold sleep," he muttered.

Becky Gold appeared at his side and handed him a flask.

"Drink, drink it all. It will relieve your headache and get you back on your feet in minutes. You have to stop trying to beat him to the bridge."

"I won't and one day I will be waiting on him."

"As you wish," Becky chuckled. "I have to go, a lot more crew to help."

"Thank you, Becky, thank you very much."

Becky waved as she turned and hurried down the corridor to the cold-sleep chambers on this deck. Rolling to his side, Laff climbed to his feet. He took a large drink from the flask Becky had given him and headed toward the lifts.

The ships were now two hours out from the Arneb system. Sensors were now beginning to show the planets and any ships close enough to be picked up. Admiral Cook sat in his chair on the Mauthe Doog, watching the display at the front of the bridge. He saw that the Uasal quickly slowed to take up their position just outside the system for resupply.

The formation had been decided during the briefings back in home-system. Warrior One was to have the lead, followed by Pech, flanked by Caoineag and Selich. The Mauthe Doog and Iona would hang back to engage the ships, while Wulver and Ceasg escorted the Nuadu close to the planet. The Seonaidh would escort the Marine contingent from Warrior One down to the planet. Glaistig dropped off at the edge of the system with the Tór and a flight of fighters from the Pech.

All was going according to plan from what the Admiral could see on the screen. The fleet was fast approaching the inner planets when Gar ships began to move to intercept them. The count on the screen put the number of Gar ships at more than had been expected. Then the fighters launched from Pech, flew around Warrior and headed directly at the largest concentration of Gar ships. The short squadron from Warrior launched just behind the fighter from the Pech.

Within minutes, the screen was lit up like a Christmas Tree. Admiral Cook felt the launch tubes fire the torpedoes. The whoosh of the missiles echoed through the ship. The buzz of the plasma cannon filled in when there was a lull in the launching of missiles and torpedoes. The screen was alight with tracks of all. Gar ships started to disappear. Pech's fighters started to disappear.

Calls from all the ships echoed as Milford Cook, Admiral of Fleet One, watched as his...their plan come together.

Ezra was trying to fight his ship and cover the fighters at the same time. He had the throw weight to do just that. More and more Gar ships either disappeared or just went dark. The same was true about the fighters he was trying to cover. More and more were floating out there in the dark, lifeless. He hoped Carol Ryan wasn't one of them. She and her squadron had launched as the battle was engaged and Warrior had slowed to almost a stop. Ezra had caught a couple of tally-ho's from her in the beginning, but since then he had really heard nothing from her.

Ezra watched as the shuttles full of his Marine's, left the ship, closely guarded by Seonaidh. He watched for as long as he could without changing the front screen. He could have watched on one of his, but he needed those to make tactical decisions.

Then Warrior shook with an impact that wasn't weapons fire.

"Portside, collision with a Gar frigate. Suicide attack, sir," Candle called out.

"Damage report?" Ezra said calmly.

"Portside shroud has a rather large hole in it. Shields held and the Gar ship bounced off," Candle reported. "Repairs are being made as we speak."

"Very well," Ezra replied.

"Weapons," Commander Kinsella called out.

"Go, Weapons," Ezra replied.

"Torpedoes out, missiles depleted by half. Suggest resupply is in order, sir."

"Helm, make it so," Ezra called out.

"Aye, aye, sir," Lieutenant Vaughan answered.

The view in the screen shifted as Warrior turned to rendezvous with the Tór. The ship shuddered several more times as it turned her broadside to Gar guns. Ezra shook his head as the shields held.

Captain Rosslea Ossnat could see that the Nuadu was now turning back after it had off-loaded all of its drop ships. She could also see Ceasg was turning with the hulking ship. Her eye though was on the drop ships.

"Shields on full, we are following the drop down to dirt," she said forcefully.

"Is that wise Captain," her command android Nickel Steel said.

"Probably not, but those Marines will need help down there. It appears that Fleet Four is a little late and our fighters are having a rough time of it out there."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Nickel replied.

"Comms, signal Ceasg, Wulver covering Marines."

"Is that the complete message?"

"It is, send it."

"Aye, aye Ma'am," Comms replied. "Message sent."

"Let me know if there is an answer."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

Minutes ticked by as the Wulver followed the dropships down to the surface. Ground fire was minimal to start with but had increased significantly.

"Weapons, silence those ground batteries," Rosslea called out.

"Weapons, aye."

"Comms, Ceasg replies, affirmative. It is maneuvering to follow. Iona will cover the Nuadu out of the system."

"Good. Weapons keep hitting those ground position as you find them."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am."

"Nickel, coordinate with Ceasg."

"Yes ma'am," Nickel answered as he connected with his counterpart on the Ceasg.

Chapter 62

Carol Ryan sat in her all but dead fighter. She had been a good ship, agile, quick and nearly indestructible, almost. It took three Gar torpedoes to knock out her engines. And now, here she sat, watching the battle going on around her. Not even her radio worked. She just barely had life support, the meter read ninety-minutes. Carol shook her head, forgetting she still wore her helmet.

As she watched, Mauthe Doog, moved slowly across her field of vision. Her guns were constantly firing, torpedoes shot out of her tubes. Her shields glowed with hit after hit from Gar guns and missiles. Then Iona drifted slowly in Doog's wake. She was actually dead in the water, her engines glowed only from past use, now they were dead.

Carol swung around in her seat as something hit her ship. It was debris from the battle raging around her. Then she saw another fighter, also dark, float by. The figure inside was slumped against the port side of the cockpit. Carol read the name on the side of the ship. It was Alastar. Carol sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. He had been a good man. A good pilot. A good friend.

Ten hours into the battle and there was still no definitive winner. The Fleet had two ships heavily damaged, the Selich and Iona. Neither could maneuver, but they could still fight. Pech's fighter squadrons were down by half. Most of them were floating around space, mostly ignored by the Gar, yet the Pech knew which still had live pilots on board. Admiral Cook was trying to find a way to get those live pilots back to their ship and not finding it easy.

"Admiral, there is a Captain Collins calling us," Shaffer said.

"Captain Collins? We have no Captain Collins in the TO."

"No, sir. But there is a Captain Garrison Collins in the FOP Merchant Marines."

"A cargo hauler?"

"Yes, sir. The AMV Chicago."

"AMV?"

"Yes sir, new class, Armed Merchant Vessel."

"I see. Well, put him through."

"Yes sir, channel eight."

Milford Cook pressed the button until the number eight was displayed.

"This is Admiral Cook."

"Ah, good," came a deep baritone voice from the speaker by the Admiral's right ear. "Admiral Cook, Admiral Fitzgerald thought my cargo might come in handy about now."

"And what is your cargo, Captain?"

"First of all, I have six destroyers and their crews on board. I also have two pods full of shuttlecraft, three of fighters and a bunch of ammo for your Marines on the ground. Plus medical supplies and other sundries. There is also a classified pod belonging to SpecOps."

"How far out are you?" the Admiral asked.

"I'm at the edge of the system on my way in..."

"What? You'll never survive..."

"Sure I will. New shield technology..."

"What?"

"You'll see when I get there. Kelly wind-up the shields..." the transmission cut out.

"Fool," Admiral Cook shouted.

"What the hell is that?" one the bridge crew said.

Looking at his screens, Admiral Cook saw the biggest ship since Warrior was commissioned floating into the system.

"Holy..." muttered Milford Cook as he watched the huge ship slide into the middle of the fleet.

He watched as five destroyers emerged from a large topside hatch. The sixth moved out of a bow area.

"Destroyer Cashlea, Captain Abbán commanding. I have five other destroyers with me and we are at your command, sir."

Admiral Cook, slouched back in his chair, staring at the screen in front of him.

"Sir," Shaffer queried.

"Yes, thank you Captain Abbán. I'll need three of your ships to search and pick up any living pilots in their ships. Two of them I need down covering our Marines on the ground. You may stay up here and cause as much mayhem as possible."

"Aye, aye sir." Silence followed, but Admiral Cook could see his orders being carried out as two ships headed down to the planet's surface. The other three started to flit around going from fighter to fighter, pulling living bodies out, firing as they did.

"Admiral?" came a query from his right speaker.

"Yes, Captain Collins?"

"I have taken the liberty of loading five shuttles with ammo, food, and medical supplies. Should I send them down?"

"Yes Captain, and thank you."

"And the fighters sir?"

"Can you get close enough to the Pech to off-load them?"

"Yes, sir, we can place the pods on her deck if she wishes."

"Very good, Captain. Very good indeed. I will alert her to expect you."

"Maneuvering now, sir."

"Acknowledged."

"Shaffer put me through to Fina."

"Yes, sir...on line now."

"Fina, there will be a cargo ship coming alongside you. Captain Collins will contact you. He has three cargo pods full of fighters."

"Is that ship the monster heading toward me? God that's a big ship?"

"It is good luck with the transfer. He said he could put the pods on your deck. Tell him where you want them."

"Aye, aye, sir." The connection went dead.

"What else could go right?"

"I just wonder what is in the SpecOps pod?" Shaffer asked idly.

Admiral Cook raised an eyebrow thinking the same thing.

Carol Ryan watched as three destroyers she had never seen before flitted from derelict fighter to derelict fighter. Then there was one outside hers. A portside hatch opened and what was left of her fighter was pulled inside. Once the hatch was closed, suited figures approached her ship and started to pry the canopy loose. Two medical androids carefully pulled her free of her ship and hurried her out of the bay they were in. As the hatch to the main part of the ship closed, Carol saw what was left of her ship pushed out the open hatch.

"Lieutenant...Ryan is it?" a handsome Lieutenant Commander asked her.

"Yes, sir. Ready for duty sir."

"In awhile Ryan, we have a couple of more contacts to sort out."

"Yes, sir. Sir, are you part of Fleet Four?"

"No Lieutenant, we are what will be a destroyer fleet. The Chicago, our transport, was diverted here and we were ordered to help out."

"I see. What is your name Commander?" Carol asked.

"Ólchobar Mac Aodhagáin, Lieutenant Commander Ólchobar Mac Aodhagáin at your service Lieutenant. I am in command of this ship."

"Thank you, Captain. Thank you very much," Carol smiled at him as she was led farther into the ship.

"You will be transported back to the Pech," the nurse android said as they walked. "Where you will most likely be given a new fighter..."

"We didn't have any extras..."

"The Chicago dropped three cargo pods full of new fighters on the Pech's deck. They are being brought up to speed as we speak."

"How many did they get?"

"One hundred and fifty, ma'am."

Carol gulped at the thought of how big the cargo pods had to be, then gulped again when out the port in the room she was brought to, she spied the Chicago. It was huge.

An hour later she was on the Pech, getting another checkup by the flight surgeon in preparation for going back into battle. Thirty minutes later she was back in space headed for the planet to cover the Marines as they moved across the landscape.

Chapter 63

Major Owens squatted as he looked over the sill of the window in front of him. He could honestly say he had seen a Gar. He also could say he hadn't seen a Gar. They wore armor and when they died the armor exploded. The first time that happened he lost a fire team as they tried to pry the armor open and it exploded. Since then everyone stayed clear of downed armor until it explodes.

Owens and his company of Marines were waiting for resupply. He didn't know how they were going to accomplish that since all the drop-ships were on the ground. It would appear that everything hadn't gone according to plan. Fleet Four's fighters were supposed to have been flying cover for them. Instead, the two Fleet One destroyers were doing that job and rather admirably too. Then suddenly the sky was filled with unmarked destroyers, supporting the two Fleet One destroyers. What the hell was going on up there? Owens was used to being on a ship during a battle. Used to knowing everything that was going on during a battle.

A loud whine from up in the clouds drew Laff's attention to the sky. Three shuttles of a design he had yet to have seen, floated down to the ground. Fire from the Gar immediately increased, it should have turned the shuttles into Swiss cheese, but their shields shrugged it off. The portside hatch of the shuttle nearest Laff popped open and a man wearing a uniform unfamiliar to Laff was waving him over. Laff rose and sprinted for the door of the building he was in. He made a beeline to the shuttle.