Kennedy Hudner - Alarm of War

Kaeser nodded. Mello was bull-headed and unrelentingly aggressive, and a firm believer that every war culminated in a “decisive battle.” If Mello thought this was the decisive battle with the Victorians, he would risk everything for it. Kaeser sighed. How was it that fools like this always seemed to reach positions of power?

“What is our status, Captain?” he asked.

Bauer took a deep breath. “The Fortitude has been ordered forward to join the Vengeance . We are about to enter the passage they’ve blasted through the minefield.”

“Reinforcements? Are any more ships coming from our force around the Vicky home world?”

“Six cruisers, Admiral, but they are two to three hours behind us.”

“Just so,” Kaeser sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, feverishly calculating the number of hulls available and the throw weights they represented. God damn Mello to hell for eternity and a day for squandering his forces to break through the minefield! Mello spent his entire career treating every problem like a nail and himself the hammer. And now this.

Whine or lead, Admiral, Kaeser chided himself. Which will it be?

“What are you going to do, Fritz?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know!” Bauer blurted. “I–I think Admiral Mello is going to get us all killed, but if we don’t try, the space station Atlas will escape. But if we are all destroyed and it does escape, then who will be left to protect Timor and the rest of the Dominion? And if I do the wrong thing, DSD will arrest my family…” He stopped, breathing hard, his face fluid with mixed emotions of doubt, fear and shame. “I don’t know what to do, sir. I honestly don’t.”

Kaeser stood and buttoned up his uniform tunic. “Fritz,” he said kindly. “I think it would be best if you and I went back to the bridge together.”

Relief showed on Bauer’s face. “What are you going to do, sir?”

Kaeser smiled ruefully. “I don’t know yet, Fritz, but when the time is right, I’ll do it.”

The H.M.S. New Zealand reached the inner edge of the minefield. Space Station Atlas was a mere sixty minutes away at a high speed run, visible now on passive sensors. In fact, it was as stealthy as a bonfire in a dark room.

Worse, there was still no sign of Admiral Douthat and the rest of the Home Fleet.

“Send a courier drone to the Atlas, Alex,” Emily said. “Let them know we’re here and we are preparing to attack the Dominion ships as they come through the minefield. Tell them if they have any ships available, we urgently need reinforcements.”

The Kent and the Yorkshire called in that they were on station. Emily had Merlin project the point where the Dominions were most likely to break through the minefield, then ordered the other ships to use their tractor beams to move nearby missile mines to that area. For the fifth time, she obsessively reviewed their weapons inventory and came to the same conclusion: they might get lucky and take out one more Duck cruiser, but that was it. The rest of the cruisers and that gargantuan Dominion battleship were going to break through and reach the Atlas. Her battered ships just didn’t have the firepower to stop them.

An idea struck her then, but it was so dark and repulsive she didn’t want to consider it. She certainly didn’t want to say it out loud in front of her Bridge crew.

“Minefield breach imminent!” Merlin announced.

“All ships, go to battle stations!” Emily ordered, working to keep her voice calm. “Merlin will identify the target. Fire all lasers and missiles on my order.”

On the battle display, she watched as the last line of missile mines blinked rapidly and disappeared. Then there was the telltale red symbol of an enemy ship emerging into open space.

“Mine field has been breached,” Merlin said solemnly. “Enemy missile cruiser is emerging.”

Gods of Our Mothers, help us now , Emily thought. She thumbed the comm button. “All weapons, fire! Fire!”

On the Dominion battleship Vengeance , Cookie peeked cautiously around one corner. Nothing. There was a large sign on the far wall with an arrow pointing to the left. She turned to her troops. “Anybody read Dominion?”

A private held up his hand. “I do, Sergeant. Lived on Timor for a year with my grandparents and learned it pretty good, I guess.”

“Get up here,” she hissed. He trotted up and she saw his name tag read “Albert Meyer.” “Can you read that sign, Meyer?” She pointed to the end of the corridor. He peeked around, then pulled back.

“Says the Combat Command Center is down there to the left,” he reported.

“That sound like the Bridge to you?”

He nodded. “Actually, the Bridge on a Dominion ship is just used for docking and stuff like that. The CCC is where they control the ship when they’re in a battle. That’s what we want, Sarge.”

Cookie looked back. She had about thirty men, all armed with either Tilleke air guns or captured blasters from the Ducks. Many of the Savak air guns had run out of ammo or air, and most of the captured blasters were getting low as well. Wisnioswski still carried a spear; his ‘lucky charm,’ he called it. She had lost about half of her force, but had just teamed up with the survivors from another. There was some pretty heavy fighting going on behind them, and the sounds of gunfire were steadily moving closer.

Time to move.

“The room we want is just up ahead,” she whispered to the others. “Once we get in, shoot everybody you see, got it? That’s why we’re here, to take out the people in that room.”

Everybody nodded. Some looked scared, some excited, some like they just wanted to finish it one way or another. Another deep vibration ran through the deck; the Vengeance had just fired its main batteries again.

“Let’s do it,” Cookie said.

The lasers and missiles from the New Zealand, Yorkshire and Kent smashed into the first Dominion cruiser. For a long moment nothing happened, then it seemed to physically swell, its hull plates bubbling like the skin of a frying sausage. Then rents tore through its hull in a dozen places, venting air and flame into space. The ship leaned slowly to one side, as if it were slowly losing its balance, and began a slow head-over-tail tumble.

Moments later, the second Dominion cruiser emerged, lasers and missiles firing as it came.

Emily’s battered little task force sat naked and helpless. It would take a few minutes to reload their missile tubes — the ones that still worked — and their lasers had empty capacitors. “Chaff and decoys!” she ordered, then hit the comm button to connect her to Skiffington and Stein.

“Get back into the minefield!” she said crisply, tucking her trembling hand back under her thigh and sitting on it. She paused, closing her eyes. Run or fight? If I run, the Ducks will be all over Atlas in minutes. But fight with what? Nothing left but three battered hulls. She wanted to weep, but forced herself to speak calmly.

“The big Dominion battleship is going to come through any minute. I want you to evacuate all nonessential personnel. If a weapon is not functional, send that crew off as well. Put them in shuttles and send them to Atlas.”

Grant Skiffington and Lissa Stein exchanged a look. She knew what they were thinking: first she fired her Omega drones, now she was evacuating crew.

“Emily, listen-” Grant Skiffington began.

“When the big battleship starts to come through, we are going to ram it,” Emily said matter-of-factly, both of her shaking hands now tucked under her armpits. “All three of us. I’m pretty sure that the battleship is the one carrying the anti-matter missiles. If we can take that out, Atlas should be able to hold its own until Admiral Douthat arrives. Save as many of your crew as you can, but be ready in ten minutes. New Zealand out.” She punched the comm button.