The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (39 page)

Raidan noticed that the ISS
Victory
, despite whatever damage it had taken on its portside—if any—was once again front and center in the defense formation. As the attackers passed the threshold of limitation for missile and gun range, both hosts of starships unleashed on each other, seeming to hold back nothing. Flashes from the Dread Fleet’s many beam weapons came so often and so frequently, to stare out the forward window was like being in the presence of a strobe light…an intense assault that took a heavy toll on the defense’s front line. Meanwhile, wave after wave of missile strikes from the human and Rotham starships sailed at lightning speed toward their targets, some were intercepted, but many got through, and Raidan watched the carnage as the missiles decimated the Dread Fleet’s forward-most ships.

The battle had intensified. He felt a chill, and part of him knew if this kept up it would be over soon.

The dreadnoughts and battleships surrounding the ISS
Victory
were either rapidly crippled or else blasted apart, in some cases leaving behind corpses of broken starships, left mostly intact but blackened and dark, and other times the destruction seemed to leave behind nothing at all, other than a spray of debris that soared in all directions. These were large, powerful, well-fortified ships, and yet they were being eviscerated rapidly by the Dread Fleet’s most devastating attack yet. The blue lights on the tactical display began to blink out at the most alarming rate yet.

It seemed impossible to fathom the totality of the destruction, as every able ship let loose everything it could, each determined to slaughter the opposing side. The lights continued to blink and fade, so many and so fast that Raidan had to tear his eyes away from the tactical display. He didn’t even want to begin to think of the number of lives lost, considering how many ships were, at this very moment, being wiped out. And each carrying hundreds of crewmen…never before had Raidan seen such carnage. Even the very worst battle of the Great War hadn’t been anything like this. By comparison, that one, although referred to as a massacre, could really only be described as a minor skirmish compared to what was going on all around him.

It made him sick just thinking about it.

As the forward-most ships were destroyed, they were replaced by others, which were also destroyed and replaced, and so on; somehow, the
Victory
remained. Sure, the vessel looked darkened in spots where beam strikes had successfully gotten past its shields, but otherwise the mighty ship looked as strong and proud as ever.

What a truly marvelous piece of engineering
, thought Raidan.

However, as strong as the
Victory
was, the Dread Fleet more than had the numbers and firepower to break it—by far. So, in the interest of helping to alleviate some of the abuse the command ship continued having to endure, Raidan ordered the
Harbinger
to reposition itself at the front, near the
Victory
. He wasn’t sure how long he would remain there; he did not wish the
Harbinger
to become just another frontline warship that fell to the enemy. But, for a little while anyway, he could ease some of the pressure off the
Victory
. To remain on the cautious side of things, and knowing that even the next strongest ship in his flotilla would likely be eviscerated by the enemy’s frontline within seconds, he commanded his other ships to remain behind. Not too far away…he intended for them to rejoin him when he moved, but far enough to avoid most of the incoming fire.

Unsurprisingly, Mister Demir reported that the beam weapon strikes against the
Harbinger
were rapidly increasing as the dreadnought moved within sight of the
Victory
.

“Shields double front,” said Raidan, knowing the
Harbinger
couldn’t resist such a barrage indefinitely, but wanting to render as much assistance as he could for as long as he could, before withdrawing.

“Aye, sir,” said Mister Demir. “Adjusting shields.”

Even by doubling the strength of their forward shields, Raidan knew the
Harbinger
could only endure this kind of attack for a short time. But, if it bought the
Victory
’s engineers a few more seconds to reroute power into the command ship’s shields, then it was worth taking some abuse. However, unlike Fleet Admiral Ravinder, Raidan was unwilling to sacrifice his ship just to defend the ISS
Victory
.

“All missile batteries lock to targets and fire at will,” said Raidan. “As for the guns, hold half of them in reserve. I expect a lot of missiles coming our way.”

“Yes, sir, relaying orders,” said Mister Demir.

Raidan’s prediction proved true as a fleet of battlecruisers advanced from the center of the Dread Fleet’s position and then, each of them, immediately began launching volley after volley of missiles—all targeting the ISS
Victory
.

“God, they’re really piling it on now, aren’t they?” said Raidan. He didn’t know exactly how many missiles there were, nor did he care to ask Mister Ivanov for a scan, all he knew was that the number was high and growing and the battlecruisers continued firing them.

“All forward guns, intercept those missiles,” Raidan commanded.

Mister Demir acknowledged the order and he, along with his staff, sent orders to the gun crews below. Meanwhile, Raidan considered turning the
Harbinger
broadside and making more guns available, in order to be doubly certain that the missiles did not reach the
Victory
—no matter how many, and how endless, the waves of missiles seemed to be.

To its credit, the
Victory
, and its unmatched number of forward guns, probably would have been able to destroy eighty percent of the inbound missiles, Raidan judged. As for the missiles that would have made it through, Raidan could only speculate as to mow much damage to the bow’s armor and hull the detonations would have caused, but, fortunately, he never had to find out, as the guns from the
Harbinger
eliminated whatever missiles the
Victory
did not.

Once the barrage of missiles had ended, after seven volleys, the battlecruisers swiftly turned and accelerated. No doubt in an effort to escape retribution from the
Victory
, which was no longer distracted by missile bombardment. For many of the battlecruisers, the effort proved futile. The
Victory
shredded about twenty of them within only a few seconds, as if they had paper armor. Raidan was stunned as he watched the exchange on the 3D display.

For its part, the
Harbinger
also fired what it could at the retreating battlecruisers, destroying four and badly injuring two more, but their effort paled in comparison to that of the
Victory
.

“Well, obviously we’re not needed here, for the time being,” said Raidan. He then commanded the
Harbinger
to relocate, creating some space between it and the center of the battle, but still remaining near the front.

Raidan made his judgments of where and how to position the
Harbinger
by analyzing the tactical display. However, whenever he looked at it, he couldn’t help but think of how many fewer lights appeared than had at the start of the battle; it was depressing to think about. Still, he could not lose heart. Even if they could never win this battle, the future of the Empire lived and died here, today, and Raidan would be damned if he let it die without giving his all to stop that from happening.

As the
Harbinger
was in transition, now too distant from the
Victory
for either ship to support the other, Mister Ivanov drew his attention to the appearance of a large swarm of warships making a power move against the starboard flank of the defensive formation. Not unlike the attack that had earlier collapsed the portside, and had forced the entire defense to retreat.

This time, retreat was no longer an option. So Raidan understood that it was paramount that the defense force bolster that position before it fell to the enemy. “We must not allow the formation to collapse there; move us to that position, maximum speed.”

“Aye, sir, on our way now,” said Mister Watson, acknowledging the order.

“And Mister Gates,” said Raidan. “Instruct the flotilla—and every ship that remains, regardless of its fighting condition—to immediately divert to those same coordinates. We must prevent that position from collapsing.”

Mister Gates acknowledged and got to work transmitting Raidan’s order.

“What about our shields?” asked Mister Demir.

“What about them?” asked Raidan.

“They’re in no fit state to take much abuse from any beam weapon fire, sir. And the ship, our armor, and all our systems are operating at full capacity, but we’re a lot more vulnerable than you think. See for yourself.” He pointed to a display on which, even from the command position, Raidan could clearly see the detailed representation of the
Harbinger
. Mister Demir adjusted it, showing various different angles, each time pointing to potential weaknesses where the armor had been compromised and, in some spots, completely destroyed.

I had no idea we’d taken so much battle damage
, thought Raidan. But that did not affect his resolve. “Regardless,” he said. “Mister Watson, stay true to course and, as soon as we’re in weapons range, Mister Demir, have your crews commence firing on the enemy. For now, continue to hold some fifty percent of the guns in reserve, but give the crews manning those guns authority to fire on sight, should any enemy missile come into range.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” his people acknowledged him.

Mister Mason made eye contact with Raidan and nodded, as if to communicate his approval. Raidan nodded back, although he was entirely apathetic regarding Mister Mason’s approval or disapproval. Raidan was going to do what he thought best,
always
, regardless of what Mister Mason thought of it.

“Captain,” said Mister Gates, “We have made contact with the remaining ships of the flotilla. All commanders acknowledge your order and they are moving to those coordinates with all speed. However, all commanders report that they are some distance away and it will take some time before any of the rest of the flotilla can arrive.”

“What matters is that they get there as fast as they can,” said Raidan. “Nothing else.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Which fleet is responsible for shoring up and protecting the starboard flank?” asked Raidan, unable to remember exactly what orders Sir Arkwright had given and to whom.

“The Fourth Fleet, sir,” said Mister Ivanov. “Commanded by Fleet Admiral Sullinger aboard the ISS
Seeker
.”

“Mister Gates, send an urgent message to Sullinger and inform him that his forces protecting the forward portside of the formation are going to imminently collapse, unless he reinforces them.”

“Yes, sir,” sending message. Then, a moment later. “Fleet Admiral Sullinger acknowledges and says he already has sixty-three capital ships inbound.”

“How long until they arrive at that position.?” Asked Raidan.

“He did not say, but I would expect something close to ninety-seconds, said Mister Gates.

“Sir, we’re fast closing on the given coordinates,” said Mister Watson.

“How long until we are in firing range?” asked Raidan.

“Immediately,” said Mister Demir, in fact our gun crews have already begun opening fire on the inbound enemy force.

“So we just have to survive for a little over a minute,” said Raidan. He glanced at the tactical display to see what must have been twenty-something blue lights holding the position, currently exchanging fire with a horde of red lights that seemed too many, and too clustered, to count. “Hold position here and continue exchanging fire on the enemy. Mister Ivanov, drain whatever system you have to in order to keep our shields up.” Just as he spoke, there was a flash and Raidan knew their ship had just taken a beam weapon strike.

“Aye, sir, I’ll do everything I can,” said Mister Ivanov.

“As for the rest of you,” said Raidan. “You know what to do.”

The battle continued and, once the entire enemy formation had come into range, the nearby defenders began to fall. Raidan watched the blue lights blink away, one by one, from fifteen down to three, in what could only have been thirty seconds.

Hang on
, he thought.
Just a little while longer!

“Sir!” said Mister Demir. “The enemy has begun to focus on us—there are missiles inbound!”

“Instruct all gun crews to switch to missile interception at once,” commanded Raidan.

“Yes, sir,” said Mister Demir. “Already working on it.”

“Mister Ivanov,” said Raidan, “How many missiles do your scanners detect?”

“More than we can handle, sir, with our forward guns.”

“Hard to starboard!” said Raidan, knowing that the side of the ship had many more gun batteries than were available to the bow.