Jay Allan - The Cost of Victory

"Nelson, course change. All ships are to conduct full burns. Thrust plan Vega. Execute in 30 seconds." Garret could have given the order to Lieutenant Simon, but as excellent an officer as she was, the AI would get the orders transmitted to over 160 ships a lot faster than any human could. Garret was conducting evasive maneuvers, trying to position his fleet away from the incoming missile strike. The thrust plan was random, something he’d made up himself, designed to scatter his ships, making them a tougher target. The enemy's weapons were coming in at a fairly high velocity, and they would have a harder time changing course than his slow-moving vessels.

"Incoming missiles. Detonations projected in eight minutes." Lieutenant Simon was still solid, but with a billion megatons of nuclear warheads heading at them, Garret could excuse the slight waver in her voice.

"Full impact procedures, all ships."

"Yes sir." Simon relayed his order on the fleet command circuit.

"Impact procedures require all personnel to be wearing helmets, Admiral." Nelson's voice was as unemotional as ever, but Garret was still annoyed as he reached down and grabbed his helmet. He knew it was irrational, but he hated being nagged, particularly by a machine.

The enemy missiles were blasting hard at 50g, straining to maximize the targeting on his evading fleet. His ships were thrusting full too, but manned vessels couldn't compete with missiles unburdened by the need to prevent human crews from turning into strawberry jam.

"Engage point defense procedures, Plan Delta." Garret gave that order to Nelson, who would implement it immediately. Firing the point defense systems was a computer's game, requiring precise tracking and microsecond targeting. Men and women mostly watched, and waited to see if their computers saved their lives.

Throughout the fleet, cluster-warhead interception rockets launched and short-ranged lasers fired, targeting the missiles whose vectors were judged to be the most threatening. The escorts were positioned around the capital ships, linking their fire with the defensive arrays of their big brothers. Defensive fire was preferenced to protect the big ships. The escort crews knew the deal; they were the shields.

Hundreds of missiles were intercepted, but there were just too many to get them all. In the end, Garret's evasive maneuvers were reasonably effective. The AIs controlling the enemy missiles attempted to inflict maximum damage, splitting the multiple warhead vehicles at the optimum times and triggering detonations as each came as close to a target as its plot indicated it would.

The space around Garret's ships was engulfed in thermonuclear fury as hundreds of miniature suns flared briefly into existence. Seven of the Alliance ships, mostly smaller destroyers and attack ships, were close enough to exploding warheads to be destroyed outright. One of the big cruisers was less than 300 meters from a heavy thermonuclear detonation; the ship just disappeared.

About 20 other vessels took heavy damage from the heat and shockwaves. A few of them were crippled and rendered almost entirely combat ineffective; others had varying levels of damage. Inside the battered hulls, men and women struggled and died. Pressure doors closed, isolating breached sections of the hulls. Nuclear reactors shut down before magnetic bottles failed. Electrical systems overloaded, causing systemic failures throughout entire vessels. Wounded crew filled the sickbays, and ship's surgeons worked frantically to save those who could be saved.

"Damage control report." Garret snapped the order to Lieutenant Simon, who was compiling reports from various ships in the fleet. Garret wasn't asking about Cromwell; Flag Captain Charles would handle that in his own command center. Garret wanted a summary on the whole fleet, and he wanted it immediately.

"Seven ships destroyed, sir. Cruiser Miami; destroyers Sunhawk, Stingray, and Scorpion; attack ships Terrance, Seward, and Clive." She winced a little - her friend, Violet had been assigned to Miami - but didn't hesitate in giving her report. "Data still coming in, sir. It looks like most of the battleline came through it fairly well…except for the Leyte." Short pause. "She is reporting systemic damage. Her weapons are offline and she's running on batteries. They are attempting to get the secondary reactor restarted."

Simon worked her way through the reports as they came in, relaying the information to Garret. By the time they'd organized everything it was clear things had gone fairly well, better than he'd had any right to expect. Only two of the capital ships sustained major damage, and the Leyte was the only one that was combat ineffective. So far they'd gotten off light.

Garret was pleased, but also somber. Every ship destroyed and crewmember killed still hurt. He'd lost count of how many brave men and women had died in his many victories, but at night they visited him, the ghostly cost of his unwanted glory.

Simon's voice interrupted his introspection. "Enemy bombers incoming. Seven minutes out."

Garret smiled. Standard tactics. Right out of the book. "Plan Omega. Execute."

"Launching interceptors now." Garret had held back six squadrons of fighter bombers and configured them for interception. Now, the launch catapults on six battleships spat their charges into space with the maximum velocity they could impart. Launched on a direct intercept course with the attacking bombers, they strafed the incoming craft with their "shotguns," magnetic-powered railguns firing blasts of high-velocity projectiles designed to tear apart the tiny, unarmored bombers.

They only got one pass - by the time they could decelerate and turn about the attackers would be finished with their bombing run. But they took out half the incoming craft, leaving just 37 to attack, and the combined point defense of the fleet took most of them out. The entire enemy bombing run scored only one major hit, though, as luck would have it, that was against the unfortunate Leyte.

"The Leyte's offline, Admiral. Captain Harris is dead. She's bleeding atmosphere. Secondary explosions onboard." Simon was reading the incoming reports directly to the admiral.

Garret winced, grateful for the helmet that hid his face. He'd known Tom Harris for fifteen years. Like that, he was gone. The Leyte will be lucky to get through this, he thought. Rachel Aaron is the ship's exec…at least they're in good hands. "I want running status reports on the Leyte. If Commander Aaron doesn't think she can save the ship, order her to implement Code Y procedures." Code Y was Alliance protocol for abandoning a hopeless ship.

"Acknowledged."

Garret leaned back in the command chair and sighed softly. "Nelson, updated projection on energy weapons range."

"At present vectors and rate of deceleration, the two fleets will be in energy weapons range in 6.5 hours."

"Lieutenant Simon, all personnel not directly involved in damage control activities are to take two hour rest periods in one-third intervals. All crew are to be at the ready in 6 hours."

"Acknowledged." Simon relayed the admiral's order through the fleetcom circuit. "Sir, I can monitor the boards if you want to get some rest."

"Negative, lieutenant." He paused briefly, realizing he'd been a bit abrupt with her. "Though thank you. Please send the damage control reports to my screen. Capital ships first."

"Yes, sir. Reports coming through now." After a brief pause: "Admiral, Commander Aaron reports she believes she can save the Leyte."

"Thank you, lieutenant." Garret sat and reviewed the various reports, occasionally issuing an order, but mostly just monitoring the situation. Damage control was generally within the realm of the individual ship captains. His responsibility was pretty much limited to how to utilize a ship based on its condition.