Wing Commander Action Stations Chapter Four

Chapter Four
Book	Wing Commander Action Stations
Parts	1
Previous	Chapter Three
Next	Chapter Five

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IN ORBIT ABOVE KILRAH

CONFEDERATION DATE 2634.155

"We are now at X day minus eighty," the Crown Prince announced, grinning with delight as he looked around the room at the eight clan leaders, and behind them the commanders of the Second, Fifth, and Sixth Claw Fleets.

There was a stir in the room as the Crown Prince gestured towards the holo display field and stepped away from it as the simulation started.

"This is the main Confederation base at McAuliffe, the primary strike target of the Second Fleet of the Claw, which I shall personally lead."

A scorched orange ball of a planet floated in the middle of the field, first appearing as a small dot and then quickly magnifying in size so it appeared to fill half the room.

"Their main orbital docking facility has the capacity to handle nearly half of their Seventh Fleet in hard dock around the skyhook tower that connects down to the planet's surface."

The image focused in on the vast orbital yards of enclosed docks, each capable of holding a heavy battlewagon inside a pressurized container so that repair crews could work in an atmosphere, storage facilities for the supplies, open dock stations and a terminal hub for handling half a hundred smaller transport ships. There was a vast interlacing of pressurized access tunnels spreading out from the central hub of the skyhook tower. It gave the base the appearance of an elaborate spiderweb hanging in space, with each of the ships docked into the system looking like a silver-and-black cocoon.

"Remarkable that you have this," Admiral Nargth, who was in direct command of Second Fleet under the Crown Prince, stated.

The heir shook his head. "Intercepted from one of their news links, broadcast on an open carrier," he said, and the assembly laughed along with him over the stupidity of their foe.

"And the latest defensive reports?" Nargth asked. "After all, these images might be a trick, a fabrication meant to deceive us."

"No, it's not a trick. These humans who dominate the Confederation are prey who believe that there are no hunters and thus gather in the open. We've seen these images countless times in the months we've been preparing. They are supported as well by a download from a computer on that world we seized. As for what we believe their current defense to be, it is fairly substantial."

As he spoke the vid image changed to standard battle schematics, positions of threat highlighted in orange.

"There're more than forty batteries arrayed in a defensive perimeter around the orbital base. Standard weapons—mass drivers, laser and plasma. At least a dozen batteries are hard-linked to the ground through the skyhook tower and thus are connected to secured heavy fusion reactors so they have limitless energy to draw on. There're at least fifteen missile launch batteries as well, half of them multiple mounts that can launch at least sixty missiles in as many heartbeats. Add to that the weapons on board the ships and it's a formidable system to puncture. On the ground, at what they call Johnson Island, there are six fusion reactors supplying energy for the batteries in space and, more importantly, the shielding which completely encompasses the base, both in orbit and on the ground. The ground facilities, as well, are covered by an interlocking field of heavy batteries."

Holding a laser pointer, the Crown Prince outlined the six reactors while photo images of each appeared in the field.

"It still sounds impossible," Nargth replied.

The Crown Prince chuckled, looking around at the clan leaders, and especially at Vakka, who sat in silence.

"But easy enough now to break," Gilkarg continued.

"Sire, would you please explain?" Nargth interjected nervously. "We jump through and, by the time we close from the jump point to the base, they'll be fully aroused, shields up, and ships preparing to undock and engage. If they stay within range of those defenses we'll be slaughtered."

"Our new weapon will solve that simply enough," Gilkarg announced.

"Sire, it hasn't even completed its tests," Vakka replied, "let alone gone into production."

"We have eighty days to complete that," the Crown Prince said dismissively. "Have you made it clear to those who are involved in the testing and making of this weapon that it is their heads and those of their families at stake?"

Vakka nodded. Such methods might be approved of by the Emperor and the other clan leaders, but he could not help but find it somewhat distasteful. Granted, most of those engaged in doing the research and building of the latest weapons were not of the blood of Kilrah, but rather were slaves of other races whom they had had subjugated in their great leap outward across the universe. For those of the blood, there was but one calling, and that was to fight and win honor to their name. And yet, it was upon the toil of those not of the blood upon which the Empire rested. If such individuals, even if they were soulless, were not offered some hope, some semblance of life without fear, he knew that they would not work well.

He had often argued with himself that it was for just such a pragmatic reason that he wanted to end the constant series of death threats, punishments, and brutally arbitrary executions. And yet there was another side that of late he was forced to admit too…there was something inside of him that pitied the conquered. Some of the races had fought honorably and well, some were obviously more intelligent but had lacked the military prowess to stand against Kilrah. Now they were slaves, and in his heart he wondered if this course was necessarily the right one for long-term survival across the eons.

He had spent over a year on the place called Fawcett's World. The captured colony of humans had been his assignment to evaluate in preparation for this war. Though the Confederation was weak politically, wracked by incessant internal debate, it nevertheless had a certain vibrancy to it, and he sensed a depth as well. If they did not completely shatter these humans and the other races that had allied with them, they might very well show a tenacity of spirit far beyond anything encountered before.

"Let us say they do not complete this weapon in eighty days. Do we then execute the only ones capable of someday producing it?" Vakka asked, the sarcasm in his voice evident.

"Just that it must be done. Is the test ready?" asked the Crown Prince.

Vakka nodded and pointed towards the holo field.

"Whenever you command, sire."

"Then let us see."

Vakka held up a remote, whispered a command and then pointed back to the holo field. The display of McAuliffe disappeared, to be replaced by the hulk of an aging Butha class cruiser. A flicker appeared to shimmer around the ship, indication that at least the ship's shielding was still operational.

The view in the holo field split between the ship and the cockpit interior of an Asjaka class three-seater bomber. The view was over the shoulder of the bomber's pilot and then shifted to focus in on the screen of the weapons officer. There was a quiet background of chatter between the crew, and Vakka could well imagine their nervousness at the realization that they were under the scrutiny of the high command of the Empire.

Through the forward port of the bomber the cruiser was in view, first as nothing more than a pinpoint of light, which started to elongate into a cylinder.

"Starting acquisition and locking procedure," the weapons officer announced.

The weapons display screen showed the cruiser and the pulse of its shielding.

"Have acquired shield phasing," the weapons officer continued. "The weapon is locking in."

The pilot reached over to slam back on the throttles so that the bomber slowed until it was almost at a dead stop relative to the target.

"Counting down to launch," the weapons officer announced and he began to count backwards, reading off the display. Vakka shook his head, knowing that the weapons officer was doing the countdown for dramatic effect.

"Torpedo launched!" the weapons officer roared.

The pilot slammed in full throttle and pulled a sharp, banking turn away from the ship. The view in the holo field shifted back to a close-up of the cruiser, while the voice of the weapon's officer counted down the seconds to penetration and impact.

The weapon closed in and Vakka held his breath. It had been tested repeatedly against shield generators, but never against a full-size ship. Even though the vessel was not maneuvering or fighting back, so much could still go wrong and he knew he would be blamed.

The torpedo hit the edge of the shielding…and then sliced clean through without detonating. It impacted against the side of the ship and then exploded in an incandescent flash.

A growl of approval erupted in the room at the sight of the cruiser splitting open, its entire bow section shearing off from the blow. Vakka looked around the room and saw the nods of approval from most of those assembled, but Nargth was shaking his head.

"Impressive, yes, but having to stop to launch? They will be blasted apart."

"Yes, some will be lost," the Crown Prince replied. "It will be the duty of the escorts to aggressively attack the target, thereby diverting the gunners from the bombers which are lingering further off, while other escorts will keep the enemy fighters at bay. Some will be lost, but enough will get through to shatter their fleet."

"And these weapons will be ready for me to fight with?" Nargth asked.

Vakka could only nod his head. He would have preferred to see more time spent on development and testing. He did not feel that now was the time to add that at least one out of three weapons malfunctioned in one way or another.

"It is this method of delivery that I find so troublesome," Nargth continued. "Now if we were launching them from our heavy ships, which could withstand the pounding that the enemy is sure to put up, then I could see it. But to launch this attack from carriers? That still strikes me as nothing short of madness."

The Crown Prince stepped back towards the center of the room and pointed towards the holo field, where the image of the shattered and burning cruiser disappeared to be replaced by what at first glance appeared to be nothing more than a star field.

"There are two reasons," the Crown Prince announced in reply. "First, the heavy shielding required aboard our own ships interferes with the acquisition and lock on an enemy target. The only alternative is to power down a larger ship's field, thus leaving it vulnerable. I do not think you would be willing to do that in a full-scale engagement."

Nargth growled and shook his head.

"Second, it is two jumps to McAuliffe from our frontier; one jump through the demilitarized zone, and then the next jump into their base. If we proceed in normal fashion the Confederation will have at least six hours warning of attack. I have devised a plan to destroy the monitors they have placed inside the demilitarized zone. The crucial moment will come when we jump into their system. Our attack must strike in well under two hours, not six, in order to catch their capital ships before they can warm their engines up and make way. That is why we must use the carriers."

As the Crown Prince launched into his talk the holo displayed the tactical plan.

"The attack will be preceded by two light smuggler-type craft. The Confederation keeps a frigate on picket duty in front of the jump point into McAuliffe. We will simulate a hot pursuit of the smuggler craft as they jump into the demilitarized zone and then break off the chase. The smugglers will then approach the frigate and allow themselves to be overhauled and boarded for inspection."

The Crown Prince paused for effect.

"The crews will then detonate a warhead aboard their ship. They will commit tagugar and destroy the frigate."

There was a growl of approval from the assembly. To commit tagugar in order to destroy an enemy and, by so doing, enhance the strength of the clans was the highest honor a warrior could seek. Having thus volunteered they were treated as beings who were semi-divine until they left upon their mission. Any female that sired a cub from them was held in honor and the offspring granted the honorific Ka-tagu.

"The six carriers assigned to the Second Claw Fleet will lead the attack, approaching the jump point into the demilitarized zone at the highest speed possible, the timing of their transit to coincide with the destruction of the enemy frigate. They will race across the demilitarized zone and jump into McAuliffe. If all goes to plan, they will arrive in the McAuliffe system without any warning.

"As soon as they emerge, all carriers will launch their full complement of fighters and bombers."

On the holo field display the view now focused in on the jump point inside McAuliffe, the simulation showing the six carriers, with a swarm of tiny dots emerging from them and then racing down towards the planet.

"Here is where the carrier strike is the key to success," the Crown Prince continued. "Their defenses are based on the assumption that it will be the heavy battleships which lead the attack. Such ships can only achieve, at best, three quarters the speed of our new carriers."

"Their hitting power makes up for that," Nargth replied defensively.

"You are talking about going against the strongest base in the Confederation, outside of their inner-world systems."

"If our battleships go in first, they will have sufficient warning time to sortie the docked ships. And remember, Nargth, their combined strength in ships, especially heavy vessels; is half again as great as ours. If we are to win this war, we must destroy their main fleet in the first strike or we are doomed."

The Crown Prince looked around the room.

"And how will the carriers manage to achieve victory?" Qazkar, one of the clan leaders, asked. "This is a complete reversal of all fighting doctrine. Sire, we are wagering all on an untested theory."

"Not completely untested," the Crown Prince replied. "The Confederation did the testing for us. You have seen the report on their war game of some years back, extracted from a prisoner on Fawcett's World. Their carrier commander succeeded because he jumped through into the system at top speed. The fighters and bombers then launched and accelerated as well. The key point here is that the initial velocity of the carriers was already imparted to the fighters and bombers. With their faster acceleration they were able to boost to yet higher speed, thus penetrating through to the target before it could scramble a defense.

"Our strike will hit the enemy base less than an hour after jump through, and their defenses will be down. The first wave will penetrate to the surface of the planet. Using our new torpedoes, they will launch a strike against the power reactors. The Confederation bases its entire defense of McAuliffe around those reactors. The reactors will be destroyed, which will knock down their shields. Once the shields are gone we can wade into our foes and slaughter them."

"Our strike craft will be going so fast, how will they slow down sufficiently to achieve an accurate approach on the target?" Qazkar pressed and there were curious nods of agreement.

"All strike craft will have booster engines strapped on. As they begin deceleration these engines will fire, slowing the craft, and then be jettisoned. It will cut down on the weight of munitions, but the sacrifice in strike power is worth it. It is surprise, surprise, the Jak-tu that is everything!"

"In that hour, much can be achieved to get their defenses up," Nargth replied.

The Crown Prince smiled and looked over at Vakka.

"You are such an expert on these humans and their allies, explain the other reason why I moved the date up."

Vakka sat in silence for a moment and then the realization dawned on him. He could not help but admire the cunning of the Crown Prince. Yet, on the other side, the significance of it to the humans was troubling.

"The humans call the day Confederation Day," Vakka said, "the annual celebration commemorating the establishment of their government. It is observed throughout their systems and also signals a time when many government officials take what they call a vacation for several days."

"The evening before this day is one of drinking and celebration," the Crown Prince announced. "Our strike will bore in early the following morning. Most of the ships' crews will be asleep or drunk. It will be chaos."

"Might not the timing of this strike arouse them to an even greater fury?" Vakka interjected. "If they struck us on Tuhaga our rage would know no bounds."

"The war will be over before it starts," the Crown Prince replied. "With the destruction of their task force and the base at McAuliffe, the entire outer frontier is open to us. Later that day the Fifth and Sixth Fleets will penetrate on the flanks of the Confederation, the zones they call Etruria and this other one, the Landreich.

"Their reserve fleet near Earth will be forced to sortie. We shall then combine our fleets, forge straight into the heart of their space, meet what is left of their reserves and annihilate it. At that point the war will be over."

The Crown Prince surveyed the room. He could see that even old Nargth was beginning to believe in what could be done.

"The entire fleet will go on a series of continuous maneuvers, simulating their attack plans until it is time to depart for the jump-off points. Full detail battle plans for your individual missions will be loaded into your ships' computers, with an analysis of targets. Once our fleets depart from here, strict communications silence is to be maintained. If there are no further questions, I suggest you return to your ships."

The Crown Prince gave a curt nod of dismissal and, turning, he left the room, followed by his son and their entourage of staff officers, aides, and hangers-on.

An excited buzz of talk filled the room as those left stood up and started to gather into small groups to discuss what had just been revealed. Vakka looked over at his son, Jukaga.

"It will be glorious," Jukaga said excitedly. "I've been asked to fly in the lead strike."

Vakka nodded. "We shall see."

He could overhear some of the talk and most of it sounded favorable to the plan. Those Barons whose clan holdings bordered on the Confederation were, of course, the most excited, since it would be their realms that expanded outward to encompass the conquered territory. Even those Barons on the side of the Empire facing inward towards the galactic core seemed pleased. Certain worlds would be granted to them, titles and honors heaped upon them once victory was achieved…and was that not what war was for…the winning of glory as their sires and sire's sires had done before them?

"Do you think it will work?"

Vakka stirred from his musings to see old Admiral Nargth standing beside him. Vakka stood up and gave a ceremonial raising of the head to bear his throat as acknowledgment of respect. Though Nargth was not of the royal blood, he was nevertheless one upon whom many honors had been heaped. He had distinguished himself in the war against the Varni, when still not much more than cub, and in his long career had risen through the ranks, a phenomenon rare for those not of the line.

Vakka led the admiral over to a corner of the room and gazed out the viewport. The Second Claw Fleet was arrayed before them, eight heavy battleships, a dozen heavy and medium cruisers, a host of escort vessels and the six carriers, which seemed minuscule when compared to the heavy hitting power of the capital ships.

"The plan is unorthodox," Vakka began.

Even though he trusted Nargth, his own contempt for the Crown Prince and the Imperial line could never be revealed. And that was the frustrating part of all this. He felt slighted. For after all, it was he who had first called attention to the Confederation war game. It was he who had first taken Fawcett's World, studying the captive colony, and thus he who was the expert. And no one cared to hear his advice.

His thoughts drifted for a moment. Before Fawcett's World there had been no indication of the existence of this force on their flank. All their attention after the Varni had been focusing in towards the galactic core. It was felt that there was nothing worth exploiting out towards the galactic rim, where the density of worlds declined, and finding uncharted jump points became more difficult.

And then by random chance his own ship found a jump point, went through it, and ran straight into the humans of the Confederation. Well, it was inevitable, he tried to reason, and as such it meant this war was inevitable.

At first he thought the humans almost as stupid as the Shata. They had, after all, allowed their ship to be taken intact. Within its computers were all the navigation charts for several hundred million cubic parsecs of space, a coup of unprecedented proportions. There also was data on ships, cities, bases, orbital stations, and so much more... files on art, literature, music, history, politics; in short, all that they were.

It was startling to realize that such information was not unique, but in fact common on most of their larger vessels... how could they have been so insane as to allow it to fall into enemy hands?

He had left his oldest friend, Harga, in charge. It was the type of task to Harga's liking. A strange one, war had lost its appeal for him. Perhaps he had seen too much at the Battle of Karing, with the death of all his own cubs; it was after Karing that the questioning had begun. And it was through Harga that the warnings had come. Bizarre how the old warrior now claimed friendship with one of the captives, but Vakka had to admit he could not help but admire the human as well.

So it is from this that we now go to war. Strange how the universe works, he thought. I who found them, I who profit the most of all the clans by fighting them, now wish it the least. He felt he had a better sense of the humans than nearly anyone in the Empire. Some of his musings regarding them, their strengths and vulnerabilities, were now clearly reflected in the Prince's battle plan.

He looked back over at Nargth.

"The change in battle doctrine to the use of carriers as the first strike force has been discussed for years," Vakka continued after a short pause. "Ever since the war with the Varni we've considered it. Development of a shield-penetrating torpedo now makes it logical."

"It will still be the heavy ships, though, that will carry the day," Nargth replied defensively. "I've given my life to the fleet. Only ships with staying power will finally decide it. As to the overall plan, there is a flaw to it."

"And that is?"

"It lacks aggressive punch to finish the war. Why split us into three fleets? We should concentrate. Yes, strike McAuliffe, but have the other two fleets drive straight to Earth and their inner worlds."

"In the nearly three times eight days such a journey would take, they will concentrate. Besides, there are heavy defenses around the inner worlds."

Nargth shook his head. "The Imperial family looks too much towards the taking of worlds and their wealth to define victory. We must meet and destroy all the enemy, not just take worlds. For that matter, the First Fleet of the Claw should be committed as well."

Vakka looked at Nargth in surprise.

"That is the Emperor's own fleet, permanently stationed here at Kilrah. It is the Imperial guard."

"Gold-plated toys," Nargth snapped. "There, with the First Fleet, is the additional strength to aid in a drive on Earth."

Vakka could see the logic, at least in a military sense, to what Nargth wanted. Holding back the First Fleet in that sense was unwise. If the blow was to be a Jak-tu, it had to be swift, remorseless, unstoppable. The First Fleet could provide the additional power. But in a political sense it was impossible. The Emperor would never dare to unmask the home world. Ever since the leap outward into space, the other clans, and their royal lines, had been dispersed to occupy the new worlds, thus leaving Kilrah solely to the Emperor. If he committed his personal fleet, there was always the chance of an attempt at overthrow, even though such a move was completely contrary to the blood oaths of the race. Vakka smiled at the thought. There was even something inside of him that found the thought distasteful, but he knew, if given the chance, he would try for it. There was, as well, the argument that if this unorthodox attack failed, the First Fleet would be needed as a reserve to fend off the Confederation counterstrike.

"If the torpedoes do work and we catch them by surprise, Admiral, is this war winnable?"

"There are many ifs," Nargth replied, his gaze distant as if he was staring off into some unknown and uncharted realm.

"We must rip out their throats the first day. The Confederation is larger than us, its manufacturing more developed. We must rip out their throats before they are even aware. Given that, I believe we shall win."

Vakka watched the admiral closely. He could sense the hesitation, but also the resolve to succeed, now that the orders had been issued. Not being of the royal blood, it was inconceivable that Nargth should ever openly question or attempt to circumvent a direct order. He was ordered to prepare for war and now he would lend all his strength and will to that task.

"May I ask a favor, Admiral?"

"Anything, Baron."

"My son. For his, how shall I say it, education, I am sending him on a courier ship to Fawcett's World. I want him exposed to these humans."

Nargth wrinkled his nose with disdain.

"I've seen some of them in the Emperor's questioning rooms in the basement of the palace. Disgusting creatures. Why do you want your son to see them?"

The questioning rooms…the fact that several eights of eights of the humans he had taken at Fawcett's World were shipped to Kilrah for direct questioning had been troubling. Every ounce of knowledge of military worth had been extracted from them till they were nothing but dried husks, fit only for the final death blow. What might still be alive in the Emperor's chambers were nothing but terrified animals.

"I want him to understand what he will face."

"Why?"

"He will one day rule my clan. I want him educated in all things."

Nargth shook his head over the eccentricities of a royal baron who thought such things important, but said nothing.

"He believes that he will be in the strike force, he has the wings of a pilot and the Crown Prince offered the assignment."

The offer had, in fact, been a direct suggestion of the Crown Prince and the inner plan was obvious. Jukaga was his only direct heir and, if he should die, it could cause a splintering within the clan as various cousins vied for the honor, thus making the Crown Prince a factor in internal clan politics.

"You want him on my staff?" Nargth asked, and Vakka could sense the slight ripple of distaste from the straight-laced admiral. Cubs, even those of royalty, were expected to do their duty, to draw blood and win their own honors. Granted, once blooded they could easily step aside and let others take the more dangerous risks, but this rite of passage was expected.

"He will return as a valuable resource, Admiral. He has been studying their language. If war was not coming so quickly I'd leave him on Fawcett's World for a year. Even with his limited contact he would be of use to you in this battle as something of an expert on our foes. Afterwards, there will be time enough for him to wet his claws, but for this first action I think he would best serve the Empire by your side."

And out of harm's way, Vakka silently thought.

"All right," Nargth finally replied, the reluctance and slight measure of disdain in his voice all too evident.

A servant approached them, a captive Varni, its eardrums punctured so that it could not hear any conversations. At its approach Vakka felt slightly uncomfortable. He knew that xenophobia was a deeply bred instinct in the Kilrathi. Any creature not of their own blood was either ukta, prey-food, or bak, another predator that was a threat. The Varni, with their reptilian features, immediately aroused a sense that here was another predator, even though the Varni had once been a highly developed civilization that only saw combat as a distasteful action of last resort. The Varni slave held up a tray, offering goblets of steaming hot xark, the fresh blood drawn from what had once been the main species they hunted, eons ago. The mere scent of the blood caused Vakka's mane to bristle. Many a warrior would carry a piece of cloth soaked in xark so as to heighten his killing instincts as he went into battle.

Now, xark helped Vakka to bury all the misgivings he held regarding the forthcoming campaign. Many in the room started to burst into their clans' battle chants, pounding clenched fists against tables, chair backs, and the walls so that a deep resonating rhythm thundered, setting Vakka's heart pounding. There would be time enough later on to worry about them, he told himself, but for now the taste of the blood was on his lips, the hunt was about to begin, and he allowed himself the pleasure of plunging into the lust for the kill.