This is a repost of the same story I put up here a while ago. The difference being that this is massively expanded upon and slightly edited.
If there is a positive and constructive response then I will continue to post chapters and add more to the story. If people decide it's bad, then I will abandon it for another project.
Link to Chapter 1: https://redd.it/3xfes9
Link to Chapter 2: https://redd.it/3xja5r
Link to Chapter 3: https://redd.it/3xkj3c
Google Docs link for the best formatting and the ability to comment on particular sections:
Normal Format, posted one chapter at a time:
*Chapter Four*
ERS Infinity sat silently alongside her destroyer flotilla. She was the epitome of UN naval power throughout human space. Whether patrolling international space, escorting freighters through pirate regions or combating insurrectionists, the ERS Infinity and the entire Universe class of destroyers projected UN power wherever they went. Now she was living up to her name of being a ‘Line Destroyer’ as her crew prepared to push the entire battle line through the enemy. Captain Emily Blau stood at the centre of Infinity’s bridge, watching the space around her through a series of massive digital displays that encircled the entire room. The dozen or so other vessels of Destroyer Flotilla One were clearly marked on the screens. Though the screens weren’t particularly useful in any tactical sense, it did give the crew situational awareness that was critical in some circumstances, plus, Emily enjoyed the view.
*
“Captain, orders from Commodore Allis,” the communications officer said, “the entire flotilla is to engage and destroy as previously instructed.” Emily pondered the instructions for a moment, the change in plans had been rather ad hoc at best and completely chaotic at times. It amazed her that during the near hour of maneuvering and aligning of the two flotillas the enemy had sat back and allowed it to take place. In all likelihood there was an ambush waiting for them somewhere between Ài and its moon. However, ambush or not, they could have dealt a lot more damage with a sudden strike while the entire armada was out of formation.
“Helm, commence acceleration. Combat speed, match the flotilla,” Emily commanded, unsure of what her order would lead them into.
“Accelerating,” the Helmsman responded, directing the computer software to match formation with the warships around them.
*
Emily sat down in her combat chair, securing herself in with a harness. There had been more than one bridge officer killed by standing up, unsecured, while their vessel had taken fire. Even having her helmet off was bad practice at the best of times. But the damn suit was bad enough without needing to speak to her bridge crew through a terrible in-helmet microphone. The suit wasn’t exactly flattering but it was a damn sight better than the age old ones NASA took to the moon. It fit reasonably close to her skin, there was no atmospheric bubble keeping her from exploding in the event of sudden pressure loss. Instead the electromagnetic fibre skin contracted to counter the pressure outside and in conjunction with thermal and radiation shields it amounted to an inch of high tech fabrics protecting her from the void of space. She felt even worse for the Marines who had to wear an even heavier armour variant, all the while hoping that a stray piece of shrapnel didn’t tear open the suit and open them up to the vacuum.
*
She pulled across the command display, a digital screen fixed to her chair by a telescopic arm. She opened a picture of the space around her and zoomed onto the nearest vessel. ERS Chrono was an identical Universe class line destroyer to the ship Emily now commanded. The destroyer matched pace with those around her and scanned the skies with dozens of sensors. Tiny scars along her smooth hull marked the laser and radio systems that made her such a potent weapon. Still hidden for the sake of radar cross section, were the dozen turreted weapons that could swat a wing of bombers at three hundred thousand kilometers. “Matching speed with flotilla at two hundred and seventy kilometers per second. Merging time with bandits is thirty five minutes, three hours till merging with planet,” the helmsman said. Emily glanced up at the screens for a moment, surveying the arrangement of destroyers, fighters and bombers around her ship.
*
According to her radar readout, there was at least a dozen destroyer size contacts to their front, still some thirty minutes out of engagement range along with a large compliment of fighters and bombers. What concerned her most of all was the way in which the fighter and bomber sized contacts repeatedly appeared and disappeared on the radar. Otherwise the attack should move quite smoothly, the destroyer flotillas outnumbered the enemy between two and three times both in capital ships and in combat craft. All she could do in the meantime was watch the sensor readouts and wait for the two fleets to clash.
*
ERS Infinity proudly led Destroyer Flotilla One into battle, tracking dozens of enemy contacts across space, identifying each one’s threat to the crew. “Captain, we are taking fire,” the weapon’s officer paused, “I think.”
“What do you mean, ‘you think’?” Emily demanded.
“The reflective armour seems to be taking a thermal attack of some kind, similar to an extremely diluted lasers. The impact radius appears to be several meters across.” the defensive weapon’s officer said, not quite understanding the figures he was looking at.
“Damage report!”
“Erm, none,” he paused, “no damage. The coolant systems are cooling the hull faster than the incoming fire can heat it.”
“Deploy IFB,” Emily said. The IFB, or Incoming Fire Beacon, was a small satellite that would be jettisoned in the direction of the incoming laser fire to identify the exact bearing of the attacker. it was a small unit, maybe the size of a refrigerator, that would fly some hundreds of meters out from the mother ship, deploying chaff as it went. With an exact location of the IFB and the mother ship know and a view of the laser’s path through the easily destroyed chaff, the computers could triangulate the incoming fire with surprising accuracy. It was the only real method of identifying the path of the otherwise invisible weapon.
*
Emily felt the jettison through the ship as a dull, dampened, thud. She watched it sail out to the side in a spray of debris, the little craft spinning and throwing chaff out into space with compressed gasses. Then the chaff glowed hot, turning molten as the laser’s ‘diluted’ beam instantly melted the aluminium strips with invisible power. A second later the computer’s calculated the result, “Confirmed incoming shots bearing zero one one degrees!” the DFW exclaimed, matching his readout to the radar contacts on the battlespace map. Emily traced her eyes across the map, seemingly unconcerned about the incoming fire.
“Identify the target.” she said calmly, bringing up the IFB’s report on her display.
“According to radar echoes, the target identified by the IFB is believe to be a Yoddha class destroyer.” Emily quickly threw the name ‘Yoddha’ into her database. Yoddha was an obsolete Indian destroyer from the second generation of space-capable warships. It was no wonder why the laser fire was barely warming Infinity’s hull. The Universe class destroyers were heavily armoured with a honeycomb construct of titanium-ceramic plates and cooled with a maze of tunnels boring coolant paths across the entire hull. On top of that they were coated with layers of reflective and reactive armour. To make matters worse for the poor bastards in the world war one dreadnought, their own lasers were so woefully out of range the beam was diverging to spread the blow across several meters.
*
“Weapons,” Emily commanded, trying to hold back a grin as she prepared her response.
“Ma’am!” the offensive weapons officer responded.
“Fire twenty second burst, gun’s A and B. Target Yoddha class destroyer bearing zero one one degrees.” she said, only somewhat aware that she was condemning the crew of that ship to die.
“Twenty second burst, gun’s A and B, Yoddha class destroyer bearing zero one one,” the OWO repeated, plugging his firing solution into the computer. “Firing.” There was a dull groaning of metal as the A and B gun turrets pulled themselves up and out of their armoured housing and into a ready position.
*
Emily felt the need to get up and pace across the room while she waited but instead occupied her mind with counting the long twenty seconds, waiting for a possibly return volley. “Shot out!” the OWO cried as the burst finished, “Laser heat syncs at maximum capacity, cooling estimated at two minutes, fifty seconds.”
“Incoming fire has ceased,” the DWO said, shifting the coolant from the hull to the weapons.
“Magnify the image on target bearing zero one one.” Emily said, eager to see her handy work. The screens around the bridge panned and zoomed, displaying a picture of the destroyer some nine hundred thousand kilometers away. Even at this range, the image was crystal clear and the horror onboard was evident. Two molten gashes had cut straight through the hull, venting the atmosphere into the void in a spray of freezing air. Mutilated bodies floated out through the bridge, torn apart in an explosion. The warship was gutted, the hull clawed open by an invisible arm a million kilometers away. She watched it silently drift into the darkness, probably to never be recovered. “Kill the feed,” Emily said, unsure of what to make of the sight, “return to standard view.” The displays quickly flicked over to the one times zoom and the highlighted formation of the flotilla.
*
The bridge crew was silent after they witnessed their handy work, passing out only critical information in low voices. Emily sat back in her chair, trying to push the image of oxygen starved crew out of her mind when her vessel was hailed. It was a direct link to Destroyer Commodore Allen Wilkes, the commanding officer of Destroyer Flotilla One. She put on her game face and answered the call, noting the connection to every captain in the flotilla. “I apologize for calling this conference on such short notice, I’ll make it brief.” Wilkes said, he was an older man in number alone. Whether it was genetics or medical science, the man looked no older than thirty but seemed to struggle using words for anything beyond the most direct conversation. “PLAoA aerospace forces have been detected over Ài, they are mixing with TCCG forces in high orbit. You must identify your targets before firing, they are attempting to start an international incident. Do not give them an excuse to start shooting, is this understood?” There was a flurry of affirmatives across the net, “That is all, good luck. Oh and good shooting Infinity, you took that TeeCig destroyer right out of the sky! We’ll say that one was for Carthago. Right, return to your duties.” Emily was shocked and the net screen disappeared before she realized the compliment. Instead of rejoicing at what the one sided combat could mean for her career, she felt sick. She couldn’t shake the image of the dead bridge officer from her mind, knowing that it very easily could be the other way round.
*
“Captain, we are taking fire again!” the DWO yelled, breaking the strange silence on the bridge.
“Evasive action, hard port!” Emily commanded and immediately she left the shudder of the ship pull very slightly to the side. The hull groaned under stress as metal heated, cooled and was twisted under maneuvering. “Deploy IFB, return fire immediately.” The IFB shot out from Infinity, twisting through space for a moment before it was cut in half.
“IFB destroyed by enemy fire, redeploying!” There was a bright flash as Infinity was struck by a second beam, the laser turning the reflective armour into vapour and light in an instant. Infinity’s hull screamed and hissed. “Breaches on deck two, bulkheads, sealing the damage.”
“Return fire!” Emily demanded as another flash filled the screens.
“Guns A and B firing, full bursts!” the OWO yelled as a terrifying hiss filled the bridge.
“Seal that bulkhead!” Emily screamed, watching the seam between the wall and the floor suck air out of the hallway leading into the bridge. The doors slammed shut and Emily went for her helmet, twisting it locked onto her suit. “Helmets on,” she ordered, trying to find the direction of the incoming shots. “God fucking damn it,” she breathed hard, the fire seemed to have stopped, “damage report!”
Submitted December 22, 2015 at 11:50AM by Enlil42 http://ift.tt/1YxN5kh HFY
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