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Hmmm Sneaky Lyrans

“We’re in clean, First Lord, Lord Kerensky,” Admiral of the SLDF Jean Kirkpatrick said to the two holographic images projected from the HPG link.  “I’ll attempt to transmit again when the main body of the Caspars are eliminated, but if they get to the communications ship first I will not have the opportunity.  We are nine days out from Terra, and they have to launch their attack before we arrive in orbit.  So give us 200 hours before your assault jumps in . . .”

The First Lord smiled a crocked smile.  “. . . on the 6th.  If they haven’t responded to you, it’ll come as one Hell of a surprise when the rest of the Fleet jumps into the Earth-Moon LaGrange point.”

Jean nodded curtly.  “Very well, then, Sir.  I’d best get my command underway.”

“Understood,” Aleksandyr said.  “Godspeed Jean, and good hunting.”

“We’ll make a hole in the defenses so big it won’t matter if a few Caspers survive, Lord Kerensky.  We’ll do you proud.”

“You already have, Jean.  You already have.”

The holographic projection faded as the HPG link ended, and Jean pulled herself across the weightless command deck of her flagship, SLS Bismark.  She climbed into her command chair and fixed the straps to secure her safely in place.

“Maneuvering,” she said.

“Awaiting your orders, Admiral.”

“Set course for Earth at 1-g acceleration.  Comm, upload the course plot to the remainder of the Fleet and instructed all ships to comply with our maneuvering.  Engage in sixty seconds.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

She watched silently as a digital clock slowly ticked down to 00; and then she felt gravity around her as the massive WarShip smoothly accelerated.  “Keep a close on the eye on the sensors and maintain Condition Two on all ships—weapons manned and charged.  There be dragons out there, and I want to see them impaled on our sharp lance, gentlemen.”

This is exactly the kind of stuff I'm hoping to see in the Liberation of Terra Book(s) but I have a feeling it won't be of this high quality - you are an amazing writer masterarminas.

November 1, 2768
SLS Randolph
Outer System, Terra
Empire of Amaris (Terran Hegemony)

“Why don’t they just charge instead playing with us?” muttered the young Tactical Officer, even as he kept his eyes fixed on the targeting consoles for which he was responsible.  The Lieutenant (junior grade), only three years out of the Academy, had probably meant to make his comment sotto voice, but four days of standing Condition Two watches around the clock had taken their toll on the crew of SLS Randolph.

Commander Audrey Hitchens, entrusted with the command of the old Vincent class vessel, smiled grimly.  “We still have another five days to orbit, Guns,” she answered.  “Those bastards are fully programmed on the weaknesses of human crews—including our need to rest.  The drones don’t have that need.  Besides, it is not like they haven’t been probing the screen for the past four days.”

That last sentence left a sour taste in her throat, because the Caspars had proved fiendishly clever and extremely difficult to target.  More than three of hundred of them now shadowed the Fleet—just outside of weapons range.  And still more were en route.  Every now and then the drones would suddenly dart into range and pour weapons fire into one unlucky bastard of the outer screen, and then dodge back out of range.  They were slowly bleeding the Fleet, and the randomness of their attacks—ranging from once every seventeen minutes to one interval that had lasted for more than five hours—had put all of the Fleet’s personnel on edge.  So far, the attacks had not been pressed home and not one SLDF vessel had yet been lost.  But more than four dozen were badly wounded and only just able to maintain formation.  Audrey grimaced as she shook her head slowly.  They are waiting for our reaction time to slow down still more—and with their acceleration advantage, we can’t catch them once they evade outside of weapons range again.

Although Randolph was one of the swiftest and most maneuverable ships in the Fleet, the damned drones were capable of pulling a third again higher acceleration.

The JG blushed, and shook his head.  “Sorry, Skipper.  I didn’t mean . . .”

“Just keep you focus on the sensors, Guns.  We’re all a bit groggy.”

The Chief of the Watch turned around in his seat to face Audrey.  “We are approaching the next dog-leg, Skipper.”

Audrey nodded.  “Maneuvering, prepare to alter vector to conform to Fleet maneuvers in . . . forty-two seconds.  Sound acceleration warning throughout the ship.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” the Chief answered.  “Sounding acceleration warning.”

*****************************************************

Had SOL-117 been capable of expressing emotion, she might well be described as furious.  As it was, she merely pondered the illogic of the new order.  Command Authority had become increasing impatient over the past four days, and now he had ‘grown weary of the excuses of machines’ to quote his latest set of orders; orders that instructed the drones to launch an immediate full-out attack on the Enemy.

It made little sense:  in only fourteen more hours the Enemy would match vectors and accelerations with the reinforcement dispatched from the Inner System four days ago.  Those reinforcements would triple the number of drones and add an additional one hundred and fifty-four manned ships as support.  SOL-117 had already asked for permission to delay until those ships arrived, but thirteen seconds ago the reply had been received:  ATTACK AT ONCE!

And so the great ship had no choice in the matter:  her logic center would not allow her to disregard a properly formatted, coded, and authorized command from a recognized and legitimate authority.  She scanned her files searching among the tens of thousands of contingencies which she had prepared over the past four days and selected one.  Opening a broadcast channel, she copied the order to her sisters and brought her fusion plants to maximum safe operating power.

After seven point four seconds, each of her sisters had confirmed the order.  And as if a single mind directed them, they executed her instructions precisely and perfectly.

*****************************************************

Audrey came out of her seat as the holographic projection suddenly lit with the harsh red of icons rapidly closing on her section of the perimeter screen.  “Evasive Gamma-Four!” she snapped.  “Comm make sure the Admiral is aw . . .”

“Incoming!” screamed one of the crewmen, and Randolph staggered as she was hit by the concentrated fire of no less than dozen of the drones—and exploded.

*****************************************************

Aboard SLS Bismark, Jean winced as the Caspars that surrounded her formation suddenly pivoted and every last of one began to accelerate towards her capital ships and the Potemkins they sheltered.  Dozens of icons representing corvettes and destroyers of her outer screen brightened and then dissolved, and several of the drones died as well, savaged by the return fire.  But instead of altering course away from the battle-line, the drones continued to accelerate madly for the center of the formation at a full 4-g’s.  And they were launching Voidseekers.  Why hadn’t they waited just fourteen more hours?  Damn it.  Only fourteen more hours and she would have had them all!

“All ships:  engage at will!  The CAP and reserve fighters will deal with the drone fighters—Assault Droppers and capital ships hammer those Caspars!  Release of nuclear weapons is not, I say again NOT, authorized!  Launch the ready birds!”

We can’t reveal our trump card—not with the manned Amaris ships still closing that must have full magazines of nuclear missiles aboard.  And as powerful as this force of drones was, the one coming up from in-system was nearly twice as strong.  Even though without the missiles, she was going to get hammered badly.  But she squared her jaw and pulled the restraining straps on her command seat tight against her body as the acceleration warning sounded one final time, and SLS Bismark altered vector and accelerated to meet the enemy.  May God have mercy on my soul, she thought.

*****************************************************

SOL-117 calculated her shot trajectories in milliseconds, concentrating on the primary targets of the inner screen:  the seventy-two McKenna-class battleships and two hundred fifty-six Luxor-class cruisers.  Those ships would prove the most deadly, and it was imperative that they be eliminated.  She was somewhat surprised at the speed of the Enemies reaction, but by the time they began to return fire, her sisters had already penetrated the outer screen and were in weapons range of the inner.  Locking her forward batteries on a McKenna, SOL-117 went to rapid fire on the battery of three Heavy Naval PPCs mounted in her nose, and made minute course adjustments to ensure that the energy bolts went home.  Without even a passing thought, her secondary processors took control of the broadside arrays and savaged two Enemy destroyers as she passed through the perimeter of the outer screen, and her own hull shook as hostile naval autocannon, lasers, and PPCs began to strike home.  She fired her reaction control thrusters in a precisely timed series of burst, spiraling down her base course to throw off the incoming fire, and salvoed bolt after bolt into the nose of the battlewagon.
The lesser M-11 Voidseekers she carried had already been ejected and screened her flanks as she—and three hundred fourteen of her sisters—continued her hell-dive into a maelstrom of fire.  Their less capable AIs were hard-pressed to devise strategy, but were more than adequate at carrying out tasks SOL-117 assigned to them.  Now, they served as mobile shields, absorbing damage meant for the Caspar, as they threw themselves in front of weapon discharges to protect SOL-117.  Six of her sisters had also selected the same McKenna, and its nose shattered under the combined fire, and then the vessel exploded.  The drone altered her heading dramatically and fired an entire broadside into a nearby Luxor already in distress—and that ship too died.
And suddenly, the AI felt her first ever emotional response!  Shame and distress, for she at last saw the DropShips emerging from within the protective shield of those Potemkins.  And not a single one out of the twelve hundred was a troop carrier!  No, they were all Avengers and Achilles and Pentagons and Titans.
She prepared a flash report for Command Authority, but then a stream of shells from a pair of massive NAC-40 Naval Autocannon slammed into her flank.  Emergency sub-systems immediately came on-line to replace primary and secondary circuits shattered into useless junk, and her reaction thrusters flared to roll the damaged hull section away:  but for once in her long life SOL-117 was microseconds two slow.  Two dozen heavy Naval Laser burned through the remains of her broken armor and the drone erupted as her fuel stores ignited.

Awesomeness!

Simply awesome. Keep it coming. The read is awesom

This is quite a Christmas gift, thank you. 

Fantastic space battle my friend!

Oh and more to read!!!