Alien Backlash Page 33

  “So did I. It seemed the logical choice.”

  “Surely these tiny ships are not really going to attack us?”

  Dinkisid and his Tactician had also been watching. The Tactician said, “They are now closed up in a line formation, with their shields overlapping.”

  “Good. That’s what I was waiting for. Their Commander will now be relaxing and thinking himself invulnerable but while the line formation might be good for the shielding, its flaw is its lack of manoeuvrability. Pity he decided against the wedge. That formation increases shield coverage but decreases manoeuvrability even further because of the closer formation. The line allows for some movement. It reduces the bunched nature of the target they make and will result in more misses.” Dinkisid leaned back in satisfaction. “At last we’ll get some action and find out if this works. I hate waiting.”

  The Chief Target Coordinator on board the Commander’s resupply ship tried to suppress her excitement as she unlocked and armed her weapons board which had been opened by the Captain using codes practiced but never authorized for actual combat until today. She keyed open the lines to multiple targeting solutions and sat back. There were no main targets for her. She had trained for years for this but never had she engaged in actual live firing in a real battle. “Ready to engage on your order!” she announced.

  Throughout the gigantic ship the gunnery crews psyched themselves up for their first-ever experience of live firing in actual warfare.

  The Commander watched in not a little surprise as the tiny ships dared to attack her, her shield on full. She ordered a return fire and cyber net engaged, then watched, annoyed, as the ships, so much smaller than hers, continued to attack. Her tactician was analyzing their attack pattern: “Idiots, fools, imbeciles,” she muttered. “This is stupid.”

  The Commander looked at the screen sadly. “Brave, though. I wonder why they do this. I’ve never fought a battle I thought I might not win. I’ve wondered what it would feel like to anticipate even the possibility of losing.”

  The Tactician looked up. “This could be trouble if they maintain it. We have a problem. The cyber net doesn’t seem to be working. They seem unaffected and are coordinating fire.”

  “What? They shouldn’t be able to!”

  “Well, they are. This is coordinated, targeted fire. Not as accurate as I’ve seen but pretty good. Our biggest vulnerability is those bloody Loridsyl who get all our newest jamming and targeting codes at the prototype stage. But that only explains their firing. How are they communicating with their other ships? We should have managed to interfere with their ships’ controls and weapons targeting, but these ships have a program that seems impervious. I can’t jam their targeting. I can’t confuse their missiles either.”

  “Surely this couldn’t be trouble? We have an endless supply of weapons.”

  But the Tactician was worried. She checked through the computer battle analysis. “I hate surprises,” she muttered, “I don’t know what to expect. The problem is that they win both ways. We are the aggressors and the bullies both ways. Kedlijercylix talked too much and let that woman say too much. Psychologically, we do not have the high ground now. That woman took it off us. The Niseyen are known for suicidal gestures but I’m not sure this is one.” She studied the computer’s simulations. “They are in five ten-to-two formations, involving each ship in a crossfire. They are firing onto set locations and definitely coordinating. This is putting a lot of pressure on our shields and we can’t evade. I still can’t jam their missiles, so our shields are taking hits. I didn’t anticipate this.”

  Several minutes passed in silence. Then, “Commander this isn’t a suicide attack. This is a coordinated, competent and effective attack. Should we call for help?”

  Reluctantly the Commander replied, “Yes, call for assistance. They are cautious, though. They are ensuring they do not get between us and the fleet. They must expect opposition from there.” She turned to the Communications Officer. “Keep in formation but slowly increase to full speed. Are they attacking our computers or communication?”

  “I have detected nothing.”

  “Be vigilant. Their technology may be defensive only but keep looking for a cyber strike and keep checking for ship-to-ship communication between them.”

  “I can detect nothing,” she answered in frustration, “except… the computer says a series of different colored lights are flashing on all their ships in sequences that have a pattern repeat for a while, and then the pattern changes. The computer is querying whether this could be a communication system but it can find only weird repeating patterns. There is no correlation between the lights and subsequent action but they are coordinating their attack. They are hitting the same areas of our shields. I cannot detect how!”

  “Our shield capacity is dropping,” the Commander warned, “down to seventy-nine percent. We can only take another few hours of this if they continue the heavy rate of fire. We need to get them all. Will they have enough weapons?”

  “If they have more ships and weapons they could wear our shield down. But that’s not what I’m worried about. We should be jamming all their electronic circuits in their weaponry. How are their missiles getting us? They shouldn’t be able to launch, let alone fly straight and explode on target! I want an answer! How can they be so accurate? They must have some type of defensive counter measure we have never encountered. Our spies tell us there are thousands of ships on the planet and that they have been busily converting them to military use. Standard military equipment was put in. So what is this and when was it put in?” She looked up, concerned.

  “The Okme brought in the hardware, software and weapons,” said the Tactician. “If they have the pilots and enough weapons like these, we could be in trouble. We knew there would have been a huge number of ships on the ground at the time of the pirate attack because it was Torroxell’s off season but it was only a short time ago that we found out they were militarizing them.” She checked the readouts. “Their strike rate is increasing in accuracy and quantity. However they are doing this, they are getting better at it. This is getting dangerous, Commander.”

  “How many have we got?” the Commander asked, wincing as the ship rocked from the explosions hitting her shield, each one weakening her shield. She looked up at the battle hologram and answered her own question: “Only five.” Belatedly, she noticed that all the other bridge crew were strapped in and she quickly attached her own webbing. She hated the restrictions it placed on her movement, particularly of her head, but one had to set a good example, as her Chief Medical Officer often nagged.

  “Only five so far confirmed destroyed,” the Tactician amended, “but others have taken damage and their shields must be losing strength. Some others have gone away. Maybe due to running out of ammunition or damage, but more are coming.”

  “They must have run out of weapons,” the Commander said, pleased, as the ships attacking her ship and the one behind her disengaged and flew to the rear. Surprised, she watched as they attacked her last two ships. “Why are they—?”

  “The shield is firing at us!” the Tactician yelled in horror. The Commander turned and saw the danger. She could not dodge even if she had time. “All power to the bow shield!” she shouted. “How did that happen? We should be well out of range of the planet’s shield! Those bloody Loridsyl!” The ship rocked violently and she grabbed at the webbing.

  “Our shield’s failing!” called the Tactician as the shield started to take heavy fire in one place, far more than it was designed to take. It began to redline.

  The Commander hit the “Abandon Ship” button and joined her crew as they ran for the lifeboats — but it was too late. The ship slowly imploded. As it disintegrated some of the weapons within it blew up. Its position in the combined shield disappeared and the Captain of the next ship in line was too slow to react to the hole that suddenly appeared in front of him. His shield became stressed by the impact of huge amounts of debris from the wreckage of the Commander’s ship
, as well as by a direct barrage now aimed at his ship. He watched in shock, appalled that his military career spanning five decades was ending by a back alley planet. “What a humiliating way to go,” he thought as he watched his shield redline.

  In the third ship in line, the Captain had time to order her shield to cover the whole ship but then had to watch in despair as the doubled fire on the last ship in the line behind her overcame its shield and it too imploded, leaving the middle two ships huddled together. With concentrated firepower on the rear ship and the shield engaging the front ship, the end was inevitable.

  As Dinkisid saw the shimmering that indicated fractures in the Keulfyd shield he yelled, “Fleet shield’s failing!” The Cat communicated this and as one the little ships disengaged, moved out of range, and let the Planet shield finish the job.

  “Exit stage left,” said Ludmilla as she watched the two remaining resupply ships explode as the shield fire overcame them. They shot away, almost out of weapons and with a very unhappy Shield but with intact engines. “That was close,” she said.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” said Kudales as he grimly watched several gunships heading towards them. Their exit strategy was to dodge behind some of the Loridsyl media ships, but they were a fair distance away from them. “I’ll bet they’ve lost their little tempers. That was fun, but I’d like to live long enough to boast about it.”

  Dinkisid watched as the Tactician plotted the courses of the eight escaping ships. “Any of them in trouble?” he asked the Cat on the communications board.

  “Of these ships, three are damaged but the engines are working,” answered the boy after the Cat muttered something.

  “For first-timers they did very well,” the Tactician said softly.

  “They did. We all did,” said Dinkisid. It was his first time under full fire as well, after a long career mostly spent in patrols, peacekeeping and recovery. “I might contemplate retirement.”

  The Tactician chuckled softly. “All will get clear, I think. Kedlijercylix will be pissed.”

  “Damage report.”

  The Tactician checked the totals. “Shield back up to forty-eight percent, generator’s OK but peripheral damage. No hits, but those near-misses did some damage. We lost two outer holds. One of the hold doors is damaged but still closed, so we’ve evacuated to the next secure door.”

  “Where?”

  “By the engines.”

  Dinkisid winced. That was one of the most reinforced areas of his ship and rather vital. Now no one could check or repair anything. And engines wouldn’t run in a vacuum. “We need to land.”

  “We do. Any suggestions?”

  Dinkisid looked at the Cat. “I could use a report on the casualties,” he told her.

  She discreetly turned on the audio of the communications board and as she muttered the boy translated, “I can see thirteen live screens. Two of the drifting ships have survivors or were able to communicate up to a few minutes ago. Most of the damaged ships are still intact. At the very least their bridges are intact. The non-responding ships are all Terran. Their locators indicate they are the ones drifting. I can see bodies in the bridges of both, not moving. The other ships appear to have been destroyed. I cannot communicate with any part of them.”

  The boy gulped and his eyes misted as he felt the anguish of the Cat. Her counterparts in those ships were dead or unconscious and she thought they were dead. she thought and he gasped at her agony.

  “Report,” Dinkisid ordered. His ship’s officers reported first. When it was their turn the Terrans tried to respond in a similar professional fashion but had obviously missed large chunks of the manual in their hasty training. Gratifyingly, he found they were well aware of alarms, pressure drops, bulkheads, and flashing lights and had responded correctly and speedily. But the overall total was grim. Every ship was damaged, the Terran ones worst of all. Every ship had dead or injured and the Terrans had no medical staff on board although it appeared they did know basic first aid. Now what was he going to do? He signed off, then contacted the Loridsyl via a relay from another of his ships.

  He explained the problem and said, “We have thirteen ships responding. Conscious crew in nine. All ships are damaged and all ships have dead or injured on board. Can you help?”

  Kasjeindid was delighted. A request for help! Rescue fees! Publicity! This would be worth millions. It responded, “We will help. We will tow. We do not want landings under power. Please indicate the order of the rescue.”

  Dinkisid nodded to the Cat and the Tactician, who quickly edited the information and made a location map indicating priorities and status. Dinkisid sent this on to Kasjeindid, saying, “The non-responding ships first, then these in this approximate order. My ship last.”

  “Confirmed.” Kasjeindid ordered its recovery team to organize the rescue and sent a message to its media team to record the events. Then it contacted Sarah who, as it expected, authorized payment. It did not ask her to specify the type of rescue and hoped she would not think to enquire. She didn’t. It was so gratifying to deal with rich clients who valued things that were worth so much in publicity, it thought gleefully. Everyone loved a rescue. Kasjeindid loved getting paid twice for the same thing. It would get paid for the rescue then could sell the rescue films to multiple media outlets, each paying a good fee. “What other current news could eclipse this?” it thought.

  Dinkisid smiled as he too thought of the rescue fees, which would be eye-watering. This would not be allowable under Niseyen military rules — but he wasn’t under Niseyen military rules. He had decided to make up his own rules now he was still alive. He doubted Sarah would make a fuss over his decision, but would she refuse to authorize payment? “Half the war has been won by these few ships,” he said softly. “They deserve rescue and the Cat is adamant there are survivors.” Idly he wondered how she knew. Or was she guessing? He wondered what the Loridsyl would think of the Cats. They would realize they were crew. Would they guess they were the secret weapon? And were there extra children on board those other ships? He prayed no children were dead.

  He waited, hoping Sarah would authorize payment for some kind of a rescue. Torroxell now had a chance, at least for the immediate future, and these survivors who had given Torroxell that chance deserved to live! He thought of all the women on those crippled Terran ships. They should not be allowed to die. Why had those fools sent women! And why children?!

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Niseyen Tactician was not wrong. Kedlijercylix was pissed. He was also shocked and horrified. He needed those resupply ships! He had been relying on them. He was not used to seeing Keulfyd ships destroyed. He was not used to anyone daring to oppose his Race. And the Commander had been an old friend, close to retirement age, which was why she had been given what was supposed to be an easy command.

  His Tactician, who had just reported this to Military Command marked “PRIORITY” and “URGENT,” was equally stunned. “We could be in trouble. We have now a limited number of weapons left and it will be months before we can resupply,” he told Kedlijercylix. “But more than that is troubling me. The shield that originally arrived on this planet should not have been able to do that. So either our Intel is wrong or the weapons have been added to. Those long-range, high-velocity missiles are not standard supply and are very expensive. Where the heck has that much money come from? And I would bet that that strategy they used has been co-ordinated, so we have been outsmarted as well.”

  “That isn’t the major problem,” said Kedlijercylix. “The ships are not being crippled by the cyber attack — so have they got our programs? Or worse, are they using another type of program we don’t know about? Have they put in Terran software? But how would their computer languages mesh with our computers?” Kedlijercylix shook his head. He had no idea. Very perturbed, he walked off towards his cabin. He needed to think. This command was supposed to be the highpoint of his career. He had to think of some way to turn this around, but he was sure o
f one thing: he would show no mercy. And he would get that Sarah woman.

  Dinkisid contacted all his ships again via the Cat. “The Loridsyl are going to mount a rescue. Sarah has authorized it. They do not want to risk damage to their ship so will take you under tow, the most damaged ships first, then the Terrans, then the Niseyen, then my ship, then the wrecks in case they have survivors. You did well,” he told them, “but better, we achieved our objective. Torroxell’s survival has become a possibility, and the war will be a lot easier to fight.”

  He switched off said softly to the Cat, “Keep broadcasting to the bridges of all the ships which are non-responding but have functioning view screens. Tell them help is coming soon, and that the Loridsyl ships have hospitals. Tell them to stay alive. There are women on those ships.” He did not notice the quick nudge the boy gave the Cat to remind her to “talk” before saying, “Stay alive. The Loridsyl are going to rescue you soon and they have doctors and hospitals. Stay alive. Just a few minutes more.” He put the message on repeat.

  Dinkisid watched as, within an hour, the first of the tugs reached a Terran ship and attached a tractor beam to it, the rescue being beamed live. The rescue was fast, faster than he had expected, one tug to each ship. Hugely expensive but intended to gain the most survivors. He was glad Sarah had authorized such an expensive option. He did not realize she had not been asked to specify an option. He assumed she wouldn’t care because they had achieved their objective. He was wrong. Sarah had agonized over asking them to attack the ships in the first place. She badgered the Loridsyl and Dai for any way to help them and had been well aware that, originally, it was a suicide mission. But Dai told her if those resupply ships arrived, the situation would be hopeless. There would be no way they could win. To Sarah, the cost of the rescue was irrelevant. She asked the Loridsyl to stabilize the casualties and transport any serious cases to the Okme for Healing Machine treatment.