Chapter 11: Call to Arms
Alarm bells rang on the Phoenix.
The enemy was attacking.
The strained old warbird had been on route to meet the fleet when an enemy Carrier and Destroyer caught them off guard. The harsh electronic buzz of the alert alarm echoed up and down the corridors of the massive ship as the lights changed from white to a flashing red. Juan and his entire squad jumped out of their bunks, suited up and ran down the long hallway towards the launch bay; adrenalin already filling their veins in response to the alert. They could hear and feel the impact of the enemy's weapons as they struck the armor of the ship. From the moment the alarm signal sounds everyone from the fighter pilots to the damage control teams are prepared to do precisely what needs to be done; but no amount of training could minimize the stress of the call to arms, especially when under attack.
Everything seemed to slow down for Juan as he ran as fast as he could down the hall to the flight bay. He was dreadfully aware of his heart pounding in his throat and the sweat on his brow. However, the rule of command is to project an air of confidence, which he did very well, except to himself. His own body told him just how afraid he was of failure, but he didn't let it slow him down. He kept running as fast as he could, making sure he was the first one to his fighter.
Two squadrons of enemy fighters hit the Phoenix, knocking out its engines in an attempt to slow them down. The patrol squad that flew cover whenever the ship was on active duty had engaged the enemy fighters, but they were outnumbered three to one. Juan's squadron was being called to launch and defend them, as the Phoenix prepared to engage the enemy Destroyer that was bearing down on it. As soon as their fighters cleared the launch bay Juan identified the enemy fighters as Rexes, short-range attack fighters that were quick, heavily armored and had a lot of firepower.
"Go to the three-man teams and engage!" Juan ordered his squad. The three-man division is where two fighters focus an attack on one enemy fighter, and the third hangs back to protect the other two. Juan and his team were well trained in that particular type of combat fighting, also known as tri-unit flying. The leader is called Alpha; the second is called Beta, and the third who watches their backs is Omega. Julie, who had been moved up to Juan's wingman, took her position alongside his fighter as his Beta.
"Go to channel 214," Juan ordered his Beta and Omega. They switched to a separate frequency so they would only hear each other. "Beta on my nine! Omega, on my six!" Juan ordered directing his team where he wanted them.
Juan picked his first target. He and his Beta attacked them side by side diving down on it at full throttle with laser cannons blasting. Smitty, their Omega, flew about three counts behind. He would be ready if another enemy fighter tried to get behind Juan and Julie. The group of enemy fighters scattered in different directions like roaches in the light. Juan and Julie only worried about the one they had targeted. It ran, zigzagging in every direction it could, but could not shake its pursuers.
"Lock side-winders!" Juan ordered.
"Target acquired and locked!" Julie answered.
"Fire!" Juan ordered. Both Julie and Juan fired their ion rockets. The enemy's defensive system was able to destroy one of them, but not both. The second side-winder missile impacted the enemy's engine destroying the ship.
The field between the massive warships was a blur of smoke, fighters, and flashes of lasers. A civilian would not have been able to make sense out of the confusion, but Juan and his team were accustomed to the inferno. Each Alpha selected their target and paid no attention to the rest.
Juan quickly picked their next target. "Beta, Omega, two O'clock." Juan and Julie focused on their target and started the chase. For the moment Juan's anxiety was in check. Everything was going by the numbers, and that made it easy to focus on what he needed to do and how to do it.
The second enemy fighter they were chasing got close enough to the Phoenix to launch two missiles at it and then changed direction to run. Juan and Julie were ready. They quickly destroyed the missiles and did a sharp 180 to continue the chase without diversion. The enemy fighter wasn't prepared to fight both of them. It made a hard turn and at full speed headed directly towards its own Carrier.
"Punch it!" Juan ordered.
Hitting their thrusters, they closed on the battle-scarred Rex. It was certainly a veteran pilot. Juan couldn't help but wonder just how many of his friends had been killed by that beast. A hard tone in his ear told him the computer had a solid weapons lock on the enemy fighter. "Fire!" he yelled over the radio. The enemy took two direct hits and turned 90 degrees in an attempt to lose them. Juan and Julie turned to follow but lost some ground.
"Omega! Take the shot!" Juan shouted.
Smitty got in a shot with a missile, disabling one of Rex's three engines. That gave Juan and Julie a chance to catch back up and hit it with a barrage of lasers. Pieces of it flew off in chunks, peeling off layer after layer of its outer hull until it exploded under its own pressure.
On the Phoenix, Captain Roche ordered a hard turn to the port to bring their forward guns towards the enemy Destroyer that was coming into range. The three-foot thick titanium blast shield dropped down over the windows turning the control room dark with the exception of the red lights and the monitors at each station. 90 separate large panels opened on the surface of the front and sides of the ship. 40, 50 and 60-inch barrel laser cannons extended out from them.
"Transfer engine power to all forward guns," the Captain ordered. His voice was calm and stern. Everyone knew their jobs well, but the total confidence in the Captain's voice gave everyone the feeling they were on the winning side of the battle.
"Aye Captain," the First Officer replied. Trying his best to emulate the Captain's commanding tone despite the knot in his gut. "Transferring power to forward guns."
"Banks A, B, C and D fully charged and ready to fire." a lieutenant at a weapons station announced. She focused on her duty and her blind faith in her Captain.
"Enemy Destroyer in weapons range in 60 seconds." Jones, the tactical officer, stated.
"Stand ready on banks A and B." The Captain ordered. "Have engineering standby to transfer backup power to those cannons after firing."
"Aye Captain." the First Officer replied.
Combat was something the crew of the Phoenix was well experienced in, having been in the fight longer than any other ship in the fleet. Success had been a part of their routine, as for the past few years they had been on the offensive, but having had the table turned, putting them back on the defensive, had put a bitter taste in the air.
An alert came up on the tactical officer's screen. "Enemy ship firing missiles," he reported.
"Launch defensive drones." the Captain ordered. Nearly a hundred micro rockets, about the size of a man's leg, flew out from the middle sections of the Phoenix. They were smart drone rockets designed to seek out incoming missiles and impact them before they could reach their target. As good as they were the enemy missiles had their own smart computers that could avoid the drones and even fire lasers at them. To be effective the Phoenix needed to launch enough to outnumber the enemy missiles four to one, which they did, but doing so used up their remaining supply of drones. Near the midpoint between the Phoenix and the enemy Destroyer, the drones met the incoming missiles. Large flashes of high energy explosions filled the space as all the missiles were destroyed. A collective and silent gasp of relief filled the room, but the battle and danger were far from over.
"Enemy Destroyer will be in range in thirty seconds," Jones reported.
"Order our fighters to clear the field." The Captain commanded.
The first officer sent a coded message to all the fighters to make sure they were not directly between the two ships and wouldn't be caught in the crossfire. "Message sent, all fighters clearing the field."
The Captain watched the monitor as the distance between them and the enemy ships closed in.
"Sensors indicate the enemy is charging their laser cannons," Jones reported. That was what the Captain was waiting for. The enemy ships had come out of a nebula. They had been laying in wait for the Phoenix. That meant the Destroyer had to put all of their energy into their engines to build up enough forward momentum to attack, which is why they attacked with fighters from the Carrier first and then fired their missiles at such a long distance. They needed to build enough forward momentum before they could transfer their primary energy supply to their laser cannons. That gave the Phoenix a tactical advantage. It would take the enemy at least twenty to twenty-five seconds to fully charge their weapons. The Captain was gambling that they would not fire until they were fully charged. Counting down in his head the command center went silent waiting for his order. The hum of the massive ship and the subtle noises of the computers on the bridge were often muted by the active sounds of its crew, but at that moment they were loud and evident as they all waited for their Captain to create a miracle once again. Time seemed to slow down as hearts raced with the holding of breath and the eternity of the possible last moments.
"Alpha Cannons! Fire! Bravo Cannons! Fire!" The Captain ordered.
Over 200 large laser cannons shot their massive bolts of energy, each landing on the enemy Destroyer, lighting it up like a firework celebration. Nearly a third of the enemy laser cannons that had just reached full power was hit, resulting in massive explosions magnified by the extra energy. The force of the blasts was such that the enemy ship was knocked off course. They tried returning fire with their remaining cannons at the Phoenix but missed by kilometers.
The bridge of the Phoenix roared with cheers.
The Captain barked. "Quiet down!" The room went silent as he walked over to the tactical station to see the incoming reading of the enemy Destroyer. Then it happened. Twenty more missiles flew out of the enemy ship towards the Phoenix.
Without hesitation, the Captain ordered everything they had fired before it was too late. "Ready Charley Cannons! Fire! Ready Delta Cannons! Fire!"
The cannons discharged and the enemy ship was again hit with every shot. Large chunks of it flew off as it broke apart and the lights flickered off. It was dead in space. The barrage of laser fire took out some of the missiles, but not nearly enough of them.
"Sound collision, brace for impact." The Captain ordered.
Juan's squad had successfully destroyed or damaged all the enemy fighters with only three of his fighters being crippled. Those pilots had all ejected their cockpits in time and were all sending out locator signals so the rescue teams could retrieve them. Having moved off to a safe distance from the crossfire Juan and his team watched the enemy ship break apart and also saw the missiles heading for the Phoenix.
"Juan," Julie called out over the radio to get his attention. "The Phoenix has incoming."
"Hold back," Juan ordered. "We don't want to interfere with the countermeasures." He knew that if they got too close, the drones could go after them instead. But the Phoenix was out of drones.
"Something's wrong." He said to himself, as the Phoenix did nothing. Then he yelled into the radio. "All Fighters! Clip those missiles! Go! Go!"
Unfortunately, the missiles lead was too great. Juan's squadron was able to shoot down a couple, but the rest were out of range and on target for the Phoenix. They watched in horror as the missiles impacted and exploded all around the Phoenix creating significant breaches all over the surface structure, which resulted in bursts of oxygen, igniting fireballs out into space.
"Oh Dear God." Juan could hear Julie say over the radio as the ship's air was blown out into space followed by the bodies of crew members; silhouettes against the light of the flames as they were ejected out through the breaches. Nearly as quickly as it happened, emergency bulkheads fell into place cutting off the exposed decompressed sections from the rest of the ship, a function that saved the lives of most on the ship, except those who could not make their way out of the compromised sections. If they weren't killed in the explosion, then they were quickly terminated in the vacuum of space.
"Reduce your speed down to one-tenth," Juan ordered his team as outlines of bodies could be seen against the grey of the great ship and drifted out into their path. Every crew member carried a micro-transponder as part of their uniform to help Search and Rescue to find the injured and dead. Juan watch in silence as the multiple signals on his screen flickered from green to red as their lives quickly extinguished.
The bridge took a direct hit as well, but its reinforced blast shields bore the brunt of it. Lights flickered off and on, as auto backup systems attempted to turn on. Cracks formed in the walls causing a loss of some air.
"Seal those breaches!" The First Officer ordered.
Crewmembers quickly sealed them with emergency plates, and laser welders kept at every station for just such an emergency. To the untrained eye, it would have looked like anarchy as there was a lot of yelling and shouting as each person needed to be heard, but there were no screams or any sign of panic. Everyone was on task and doing what they were trained to do.
"Get those monitors back on!" The Captain ordered.
The main computer had gone offline in the attack, but they quickly got the backup running. As they did, the image of the enemy Carrier came into view on the main monitor. Everyone went silent as they knew if it made a run at them, they had nothing left to defend themselves with. It was one of the enemy's smaller Carriers that didn't have any offensive weapons, just short range defensive laser cannons. That was why they usually traveled with other ships and relied solely on their fighters for offense. The Captain expected a second wave of enemy fighters to come from it, but instead, it turned and went to quantum speed. As it disappeared from sight, everyone cheered and the Captain let the brief celebration happen.
"I guess they must have thrown everything at us in the first volley. They must be getting desperate," the Captain said to himself. He then placed his hand on the command table in a gentle fashion as if he was patting a loyal hunting dog. In a low whisper, too quiet to be heard he said, "Well old girl, I guess we'll live to fight another day."
The bridge did not slow down with the end of the battle. On the contrary, each officer had countless duties to perform to get the ship back up to operational speed.
"Dobson, recall our fighters, stand down from battle stations and have repair teams report damage." The Captain stated loudly for all to hear.
They had once again dodged the reaper. Roche just hoped their luck would hold out to see the end of the war. He then picked up a computer notepad and headed back towards his office, but when he got to the door, it would not open. He tried to override the lock, but it still would not open. Typing a code into the pad by the door the privacy tint disappeared from its small one-foot square window. Looking into his office, all he could see were stars and empty space where his desk used to be. He then crossed by his first officer and said. "I'll work from the office in my quarters. Have the reports sent to me there."
"Yes, Sir," Dobson replied.
~~~
The debris around the Phoenix was thick with twisted and charred metal. Juan ordered his squad to land, but he stayed out and made sure his three ejected pilots were picked up by the rescue shuttle. Their auto transponders made them easy to locate, but Juan knew how unsettling it was to be in a little powerless cockpit with no ship attached to it. Knowing that help was on the way wasn't enough to stop the imagination from counting all the things that could go wrong, like running out of air before they got to you. Juan stayed out and talked to his three pilots over the radio about anything he could think of that was not about where they were.
"How are you holding up Danny?" Juan said over the radio to one of his most junior members.
"It's Dan, Sir," he said through chattering teeth.
"You cold in there?" Juan asked as he could hear it.
"Yes, Sir."
"Check your instruments." Juan calmly said. "Is your EV system functioning?"
"It says it is, but I'm feeling chilled. How much longer Sir?" Dan asked. He had only been out of flight training a few weeks, and this was his first time ejecting his cockpit. Juan could hear the fear in his voice.
"Just a few more minutes. Now, Dan, I want you to listen to me. The reason you're feeling so cold is because you've tensed up and you're constricting your blood flow. You need to relax, or you could run the risk of hyperventilating. Okay?"
"I'll try Sir."
"Okay, tell you what, for the next few minutes you can drop the Sirs and just call me Juan. Okay?"
"Okay."
"And while we are at it you can tell me why you haven't paid off that bet yet?"
"Bet Sir?" Dan answered with a little less chatter in the teeth.
"Last night you and your buddies bet Jewels and me that she couldn't lift me completely over her head for a count of five and she did it."
"She dropped you on four." Dan corrected.
"She dropped me on five." Juan insisted.
"Yes, Sir. If you say so. If I ever get out of this, I'll pay up."
"When you get out of de-com we can go double or nothing. Deal?"
"Deal." Dan looked out the port side to see the claw of the rescue shuttle as it was reaching out to grab his pod.
Once his last pilot was retrieved Juan headed back to the landing deck with no time left for him to spare. His ship was drained of most of its power, and his fighter had so many scars it looked like it might fall apart as soon as it touched down on the deck. As he approached he cut his engines and coasted in until the Carrier's gravity caught the little ship suddenly pulling it down towards the landing deck. He then used the last of his power to fire his landing thrusters on the belly of his fighter allowing him to put it down on its skids with only a minor thud. At that point, all he wanted to do was hit the showers and then go back to bed. His team had to fly cover in less than four hours and a couple of hours of shut-eye were better than none, but as soon as he climbed out of his cockpit, the chief had a message for him to report to the Captain's quarters. Reluctantly he followed the orders and reported to the Captain.
~~~
The Captain's quarters were a simple military issue, a bed, a couple of metal footlockers, closet locker, a table that could seat four that doubled as a desk and a couple of bookshelves filled with some personal mementos. The only other personal touches were a print of a French landscape and a photo of himself as a young man standing next to his first fighter.
"Have a seat," the Captain said.
Juan sat at the table as the Captain was pouring himself a cup of coffee from a pot that he kept on top of one of the footlockers. He then sat at the table across from Juan.
"We lost 41 people in that last attack." the Captain said. "We also lost two of our three main engines, our quantum speed generator, used up the last of our defense drones and do not have enough raw material to fix the damage that we took."
"Are we turning back Captain?" Juan asked with concern on his face.
"No, but as it stands, we will not be able to make it in time for the fight. I'm taking the Phoenix to join the Second fleet at Moore's Point. It's a fallback position if the main task force is unsuccessful and the enemy breaks through the lines. However, the task force needs as much firepower as it can get, so I'm having you take every fighter, shuttle, and transport that can fly and take them to make our scheduled rendezvous. You will be stationed on the Merrimack..."
Juan interrupted hoping he could make a better suggestion. "Sir, with all due respect in the shape the Phoenix is in it will be a sitting duck without any space support. You should have at least a squad of fighters to defend it."
"If we run into anything a squad of fighters isn't going to make a difference." The Captain saw that Juan was too smart to accept the reasoning he was going to give to everyone else. He sat back and let his posture sag a bit. Picking up his cup of coffee, he took the last swallow and then leaned in to address Juan eye to eye. "Alright Lieutenant, all cards on the table. Now keep this to yourself, but the Phoenix is done. We only have enough ships to evacuate two-thirds of the crew and the task force is the closest thing to a safe port." The Captain was clearly stressed, and Juan listened with respect. "Ryan believes he might be able to get the QSG operational in four or five days. That means we can't make it to the task force in time to join them, so the second fleet is our only chance. The odds of making it are, well let's just say we would have a better chance drawing a royal flush, but frankly, it's all we got."
"Sir, if I might suggest, the Cobalt Nebula is within a few hours at our current best speed. It can provide cover for the Phoenix while we send a recon ship to fleet command and request they bring back a battleship to escort you to a safe port." Juan did not want to give up on the Phoenix and her crew.
"That's exactly what the enemy wants us to do, divide our forces and put us back on the defensive. We can't afford to do that now. Not if we ever want to see an end to this damn war. The Serken sees us as weak because we use resources to retrieve our dead and escort damaged ships. So they try to exploit that at every opportunity. Well, not this time. You and your team will be there, on the front lines, taking the fight to them. Understood?"
"I understand Sir," Juan said realizing the sacrifice that the Captain was making. "When do we leave?"
"In three hours."
"Yes, Sir."
"Dismissed." the Captain told Juan, and he got up to leave. "One more thing Lieutenant." Juan stopped and turned back to face the Captain. "You did well out there today. O'Hara would have been proud of you."
Juan got a lump in his throat. Pilots don't do what they do for glory or reward, but to have his Captain say that was like getting the acknowledgment from his mentor himself. "Thank you, Sir," Juan said. He wanted to tell the Captain that it had been a pleasure to serve under him, but that would've been an acknowledgment that they would never see each other again, which would be an admission of defeat. Despite the odds the Captain was not conceding, so Juan said nothing more. He merely saluted and exited.