Wrath of Axia (The Arcadian Jihad) (27 page)

They moved on after leaving him with a promise to send any spare power packs to his gun position. It was the same wherever they went, gun crews short on men and equipment.

System Standard 2734.1646 Battlecruiser Victorious, above Planet Isolde

“We’re close to Isolde now, Mr. President.”

“Good. Are the rest of the fleet in position?”

“Yes, Sir. Grand Admiral Bose is ahead of us and your escort ships are close up in defensive formation.”

“Excellent. Get me Admiral Bose.”

He waited while his comms officer contacted the Admiral. Bose’s voice came over the bridge speaker.

“Mr. President, Sir. What are your orders?”

“You know what to do, as soon as the rebel ships are in range, I want you to go in to attack.”

“Sir, we need to approach with caution until we know the placements of the defensive platforms.”

“Caution? I don’t want caution, Bose, I want those scum destroyed. You have my orders, start the attack.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bartok watched the tactical screens. Bose’s huge fleet was visible on the long-range scanner. Ahead of him were a cluster of ships, the rebels, far fewer in number than the Grand Fleet. That was excellent. They’d destroy them and then they could land on the planet and finish them off. He couldn’t wait to see the impostor Xerxes Tell destroyed. As he watched, Bose’s ships accelerated to attack speed and closed the distance between themselves and the rebels. It wouldn’t be long now. The screens showed both sides starting to shoot, but as the rebels scattered, making them a difficult target, they exposed the defensive platform. That was strange as there was more than one. He’d been told there were eight, but they were evenly spaced around the planet. Now, there were two in the same sector, no, there was another one. And another. To his horror he saw the heavy platforms sending a continuous stream of gunfire into Bose’s fleet. Ship after ship was hit as they blundered straight into the trap that the rebels had set for them. Damn that idiot, Bose. Wasn’t he experienced enough to take precautions against a trick like that? He considered removing him from his post, but it may not be a good idea during a battle. Afterwards, perhaps, it would be a good time for him to stand down.

System Standard 2734.1651 Battlecruiser Sword of Axia, above Planet Isolde

Bose cursed the idiot President who had forced him into this situation. His force was being shot to pieces, and yet the rebel ships had retreated out of range, leaving the heavy defensive platforms to do the work. The rebels were clever. They’d corralled his ships so that wherever they flew they would take fire; either from the platforms or from the rebel ships, waiting like wolves to pick off the panicked stragglers. They were slaughtering his ships. He had to extract himself from this trap. Even as he struggled to work out his best move, his Heavy Battlecruiser was hit with multiple bursts from the platforms. The damage alarms sounded and men rushed to make repairs. His executive officer raced up to him.

“Sir, we’ve taken heavy damage to the engine room area. If we get hit again, we could lose all power. We have to retreat!”

The man was sweating, terrified. Bose adopted a firm, icy tone. He needed to control this before there was a general panic.

“Our orders are to fight, not to turn and run. Ensure the damage is repaired as quickly as possible so that we can continue fighting. I suggest you swallow any suggestion of retreat. The President is observing the battle, if he sees us running, we’ll all hang. Now go!”

“Yes, Sir.”

The man ran to obey his orders. The threat of hanging was enough to lend him wings.

“Weapons officer, hit those platforms. Ignore the ships! We need to blast a way through the planetary defenses.”

“I’m trying to hit them, Sir, but the helmsman is throwing the ship all over space. I can’t get a salvo strong enough to do any real damage.

“Helmsman, fly straight and level so that the weapons officer can do his job.”

“But, Sir, we’ll take fire if we stop evasive action.”

“Do it, man, that’s an order!”

The ship stopped its violent maneuvering and the weapons officer shouted out, “Main batteries on target, I need more power to take out a platform. Permission to lower shields?"

“Do it!”

“Shields lowering, stand by to fire, we’re…”

The ship seemed to stop in space as a heavy burst from three of the platforms hit it a devastating blow. The lights went out and the emergency lights came on. The damage alert sirens screamed the cacophony. From all over the ship the reports of injured crewmen poured into the control room. Even worse, the ship had been mortally hit, and they all knew that. Bose snapped out orders to the crew.

“Get me the engineering deck. I want to know what damage we suffered. Weapons officer, why haven’t you taken out those platforms?”

“We’ve lost the power, Sir. I’ve got nothing.”

“Damn. Engineering, what’s going on down there?”

There was silent for a moment. Then the voice of his executive officer came on.

“They’re all gone, Sir. That last burst took a huge chunk out of the fuselage around the engineering deck. We’ve lost all main power, the engineering crew. The lot.”

There was a silence as every man on the ship weighed his words. They’d lost everything, hundreds of crewmen, their defensive and fighting capabilities, all gone. At least the incoming fire had shifted elsewhere, as the sensor systems on the platforms no longer registered them as a threat. He saw the political officer, Chad Moss, coming towards him. What in space did the fool want now, a lecture on the morale of duty to the President?

“Well? What is it, what do you want?”

“You’re relieved, Bose. I am taking command of this ship, what little there is left of it after your blundering efforts.”

“How dare you,” Bose snarled. “I command here, and you will address me as Admiral and carry on with your duties until I say otherwise.” The impertinence of the man! But then he noticed a small party of marines standing near to him with their laser pistols drawn.

“You are no longer in command, Bose. The President ordered you stripped of your rank. You will be taken back to Axis Nova and tried for treason. The sentence will be ‘death by hanging’. The President has given me the order.”

He turned to the marines. “You men, take this traitor out. The rest of you, we need to get this ship away to the nearest naval dockyard for repairs. For us, this battle is over.”

System Standard 2734.1652 Battlecruiser Victorious, above Planet Isolde

Captain Deckermann, have the rest of our fleet form on the flagship.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Deckermann swallowed. He’d watched the President make a total mess of the attack, and so far Rad Bose had been blamed. He shuddered. The man would be hanged on Axis Nova, what a terrible end for any man, let alone a Grand Admiral. He gave the orders to reform the remnants of Bose’s fleet with the President’s fleet. Their losses had been incalculable. Almost an entire fleet wiped out by a simple trick that any beginner should have been able to avoid.

“How do you wish to proceed with the attack, Mr. President?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, Captain. We’ll circle the planet out of range of the platforms and make a landing near to our main ground forces. We’ll link up with them and attack the city and spaceport from the ground. Prepare to take us out of orbit and fly an elliptical path that will bring us back to far side of the planet.”

“Very well, Sir.”

“What do you think of my plan, Captain Deckermann? Does it meet with your approval?”

Viz Deckermann thought it was the worst plan he could imagine. They would abandon the advantage that their huge fleet gave them in space and land on the planet where the big guns of the Battlecruisers would be useful. It occurred to him that Bartok was terrified of fighting the rebel ships, frightened that he would go the same way was so many of his fleet that had been destroyed in the debacle he had created. Now the fool wanted to land and face, what? Who knew what the rebels had on the surface of the planet. Even worse, he would be leaving the command of space to the rebels. It was insane!

“You are to be commended, Mr. President. I’m sure your plan will succeed,” he replied, putting the emphasis on ‘your’. Ignoring the tens of thousands of men who had perished and doubtless many more to follow, he had only one priority, his own neck.

“Helmsman, take us out of orbit. Navigator, prepare a course to bring us back on Isolde, the far side.”

System Standard 2734.1652 Planet Isolde East of Sana City

“They’re not replying, Sir,” Harris said to Tell.

“Can they hear us? Do they know what we’re saying?”

“They know. They just don’t want to negotiate.”

“Very well, contact Berg Smetana, and tell him to go ahead with his attack. As soon as his force moves in, we’ll attack from this side, a two pronged attack.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Tricon armor was inside scanner range. In the far distance they could just make out Smetana’s force moving in to the attack. The first laser beams flicked out as the enemy armor sent out ranging shots. Suddenly, the planetary surface became embroiled with multiple heavy laser cannon fire as Smetana opened fire and the enemy turned to face the new threat.

“Open fire, hit them hard,” Harris ordered.

“I’ll keep broadcasting,” Tell shouted over the noise. “With any luck, some of them may listen and save more loss of life.”

Nightingale watched the battle on the main screen. The Tricon force was much larger. In a straightforward confrontation it was clear that they’d win without too much trouble, beating down the rebels by sheer force of numbers. But it wasn’t straightforward. They were panicked, sandwiched between two enemy forces. In addition many were beginning to have doubts about who was the rightful President. They could all hear Tell’s constant, live transmissions over the guard channel, despite their commander’s efforts to get them to switch it off. Some of them even remembered his voice, and many had voted for him five years ago. Could it be true, that he had been kidnapped and held on a prison plantation? One thing was for sure, under Bartok’s rule, they hadn’t prospered. Many had lost their homes, had trouble putting enough food on the table and paying their debts. And yet, the ‘Golden Brizas’, the fat cats who were at the top, seemed to have more and more wealth. Second homes, third homes, it's obscene. Life for them was one long holiday. Something was very wrong.

“Keep firing, enemy ahead. Blast those rebels off the planet surface,” their General shouted over the comms system.

Instead of an increased rate of fire, as all of the armored vehicles and mobile artillery started to shoot, the cannon fire that had started slowly petered out.

It was a moment of triumph. Blas was watching the battle from the long-range scanners inside his fortified command center inside the city of Sana. He watched the huge, Tricon armored force approach, saw them firing at Smetana’s force, then turn to shoot at Tell’s force. It seemed like a miracle, the troops had decided not to fire on the rebels. That could only mean that they accepted Xerxes Tell as their rightful President.

“By space, this is fantastic,” he shouted.

Saffron held his hand. “It truly is a wonderful victory, Constantine. What we need now is to confront Fabian Bartok and show him the reality of his situation. Once he realizes that…”

“Ships, Sir, it looks like a large fleet is landing outside the city.”

The sensor operator looked agitated as he looked at his screens and instruments.

“Who are they?”

“Sir, it’s the remnants of the Grand Fleet, with, wait one moment,” he checked again. “It’s Fabian Bartok, that’s his Super Heavy Battlecruiser, the Victorious. What the hell is he doing?”

Blas knew exactly what he was doing. “He’s landing to reinforce the Tricon force. This could be interesting.”

While they watched, the ramps of Bartok’s ships dropped down and legions of armored fighting vehicles dashed out to line up in formation. It was almost as if the rest of the planet held its breath. Within minutes, almost five hundred armored vehicles were deployed ready to fight and still more poured out of the enemy fleet. Blas looked around. He needed to do something. The arrival of President Bartok could tip the balance, and it could even persuade some of the Tricon deserters to go back.

“What do we have left in the spaceport?” he shouted at the console operator.

The man checked his screens. “Everything took off, Sir. There’s only the Magellan left.”

The Magellan. Alex Yalonda. “Very well, I want Captain Yalonda here at once!”

There was a bustle at the rear of the command center.

“Already here, Sir.”

She came forward. “What do you want me to do?”

“Prepare the Magellan for take off. We’re going after Fabian Bartok.”

“But, he’s already here.”

“Just do as I say. I’ll be joining you once I’ve taken care of a few things. Wait for my orders.”

He dashed out of the command center with Saffron running behind him. There were eight armored vehicles lined up outside, ready for emergencies. If anything was an emergency, this was it. The crews were standing outside, waiting for orders.