First Admiral 02 The Burning Sun (29 page)

Neatly dividing the War Table image, Chulling was able to watch the majestic progress of the Star-Cruisers through the Bardomil Fighter Carrier formation whilst also watching the dogfights that were occupying the Eagles. On the Star-Cruiser image, the five ships were slowly dispersing into the straggle of panicking Fighter Carriers. Focussing on the Liberty, Chulling could see her holding course whilst the self-defence turrets savaged the fighters that swarmed around her. Three of her turrets opened fire on a stricken Fighter Carrier.

All six of the high-yield pulsar-bolts smashed into the superstructure of the lumbering Carrier that was trying to execute a left turn away from its station. The six bolts slammed into the unprotected hull throwing debris out into space amidst explosions and flames. The doomed Fighter Carrier, shuddering like a wounded animal, lurched away from the monstrous impacts before slowly beginning its uncontrolled exit from the formation. Scattering debris and flame in its wake, the Carrier dropped its nose and began to slowly twist as it descended and the Liberty moved on to her next victim. Having fired six of her high-yield pulsar-cannons, Liberty turned her remaining guns onto the next Fighter Carrier. The four remaining guns unleashed their violent, fiery fury at a Fighter Carrier that was already damaged.

The first two bolts hammered into the Carrier, stripping away great chunks of metal, whilst the third passed straight through the top landing deck. The final bolt slammed through the superstructure and into the power plant. The colossal explosion shook even the well force-shielded Liberty as it prowled onwards looking for fresh targets.

On the second image, Chulling could see the Eagles locked in mortal combat with the Bardomil fighters around the M-Cruisers.

On the Bardomil right flank, the Eagles were gradually gaining the upper hand over the Harpoons and Flying Devils in a massive fighter-on-fighter scrimmage. The faster and more agile Eagles were starting to dominate the battle-space in a tough and costly contest. The presence of large numbers of Flying Devils on the Bardomil right was making it difficult for the Eagles to make headway in the twisting combat.

With the battle spreading over thousands of kilometres, Chulling could only make sense of it in Graphic Mode where different coloured dots and triangles dodged and weaved and vanished from the image as they fell to an enemy’s guns. Casualties were high on the Bardomil right, for both sides, as they scrabbled in their own private battles.

In the centre, Chulling was pleased to see that the Eagles had broken through to the M-Cruisers. The Bardomil fighters had, however, followed in pursuit, which made it difficult for the Eagle pilots to concentrate on anything other than the Harpoons and Flying Devils as they zipped and sped between the slower and clumsier M-Cruisers. Taking their chance to strafe an M-Cruiser whenever possible, the Eagles were inflicting very minor damage on the real threat to Chulling’s flotilla. Cursing himself for a moment, he wished he had committed all of his Eagles to the Big Wing fight. But, taking risks in battle was one thing. Stripping his two vulnerable Fleet Carriers of any form of fighter support and protection was another matter. And, once again, the Alliance Eagles seemed to be getting the better of the contest in the centre. Strafing runs on M-Cruisers were starting to increase as the number of Harpoons ad Flying Devils was gradually being cut down.

Still, only on the Bardomil left was there any real sign of a significant victory. Having shattered the much weaker left wing, the Eagles had given chase. This had developed into a running fight with Bardomil commanders unable to contact their Carriers for instructions or to request reinforcements. The Eagles were still herding the dwindling number of survivors away from the main battle. And, as the Bardomil formations fragmented and began to retreat, the withdrawal was gradually becoming a rout. With cohesion and formation lost, the Bardomil were fleeing for their lives.

Chulling watched intently for any break that would turn the tide fully in the Alliance’s favour. It was frustrating for Chulling to watch the savage dogfights that had broken out amongst the fighter formations. Having cast his forces into the battle with the element of surprise, there was now very little he could do to influence the outcome. The pilots in their tiny, cramped cockpits would have to decide the issue themselves.

When the break that would settle the battle did come, it was not to be in the Alliance’s favour.

Meanwhile, the Star-Cruiser Liberty was smashing pulsar-bolts into another Fighter Carrier, sending it to red, roaring fiery oblivion in another huge explosion. The pulsar-cannons barrels and power conduits were now dangerously overheated. The eight seconds of cooling allowed during rapid fire were simply not enough for the guns to survive for very long. But, at near point blank range accuracy was not a problem. In the rest of the Liberty’s formation, the other Star-Cruisers were making slow, relentless and pitiless progress through the Fighter Carrier formation.

In their deliberate and calculated wake, the Star-Cruisers were leaving a trail of debris and destruction. Shattered and exploding Fighter Carriers littered what had been their impressive and deadly formation. The Flying Devils and Harpoons no longer threw themselves recklessly at the Star-Cruisers but rather watched, impotently, from a safe distance as the Alliance ships tore through the last of their Fighter Carrier targets. As Chulling had predicted, not all of the Fighter Carriers had been within reach of the Alliance’s guns.

There would be some survivors, and it would simply be a question of numbers. Still watching the image, Chulling could see the routes of the five Star-Cruisers by the trail of explosions, fire and huge chunks of debris that littered their charge through the Bardomil heart. Already the Clemenceau was finishing her run and with one last salvo, she sent her farewell straight into the last two Fighter Carriers on her path. The first Carrier, already damaged, simply disappeared in a huge sheet of flame. The second, taking four pulsar-bolt hits lurched like a wounded animal. The Clemenceau, her guns almost white hot from the rapid-firing dropped into the Trionic Web with a blinding flash of light. The Sherman, Light Brigade and Agamemnon quickly followed, leaving only the Liberty to punctuate the devastating attack with one last salvo at a fleeing Fighter Carrier. Three of the bolts missed the target completely whilst the other seven slammed into the engine casing of the escaping vessel. The crew who were beginning to think that they were going to escape were vapourised in a huge cataclysmic explosion. With her job done, the Liberty bowed out gracefully into the Trionic Web.

Nodding with satisfaction, Chulling was able to view the vast majority of the Bardomil Fighter Carrier formation, which had been reduced to a mass of exploding and shattered hulks. Of fifty Imperial Fighter Carriers from six full Imperial Fleets, only five were capable of receiving or launching fighters. Of those five, only two were actually able to run under their own power. It was a stupendous victory for Chulling and the Alliance. The Fighter Carriers were no longer an effective force, plus a Big Wing had been savagely mauled. The Bardomil invasion, with little or no strike force protection, was, in realistic terms, over. The Bardomil General, however, still had one last card to play.

After a moment of quiet celebration, Chulling resumed his vigil on the fighter-on-fighter battle. The outcome, as Chulling saw it, was still in the balance; with a slight edge to the Alliance Eagles. The Bardomil left had collapsed entirely and was being chased into the distance. The Bardomil centre was holding on by its fingertips as the Eagles, Harpoons and Flying Devils slugged it out amongst the slow and cumbersome M-Cruisers. On the Bardomil right, the battle was fully joined. On the War Table image, the battle on the Bardomil right looked like a huge twisting tornado that raged and swirled in all directions as the combatants tore mercilessly at each other in the free for all. Losses were high on both sides. The speed, skill and dash of the Eagle pilots were well matched by the sheer professionalism, tenacity and courage of the Bardomil. Chulling may have hated the Bardomil as an enemy of his species, but he could not help but admire their fighting prowess.

But, as Turthus Chulling was watching the battle for the Bardomil right flank, Grattus Darrien was playing his last desperate gamble.

With the communications network beginning to re-establish, General Darrien, aboard one of the few remaining Fighter Carriers, was gathering the survivors of the Big Wing that had been so savagely mauled by the Star-Cruisers. With just under one thousand Harpoons and two hundred Flying Devils at his disposal, Darrien scrutinised the situation. It immediately struck him that the important battle in the centre of his position was the crucial part of the fight.

The left flank had gone entirely, but their rout was drawing the Alliance Eagles further and further away from their own positions. Darrien knew that this could work to his advantage. Nearly one third of the Alliance Eagles were cut off from their bases and further support.

The Bardomil right was still making a fight of it, the huge swirling maelstrom raging and staggering over the thousands of kilometres of empty space close to the planet of Valnarim. The centre was the crucial battle ground, but the stubborn determination of the right flank was the foundation on which General Darrien had to build. With the cold determination born from the stinging humiliation of having lost almost all of his Fighter Carriers, the Bardomil commander launched his last hope to snatch victory from the looming jaws of a crushing defeat. Carefully, Darrien instructed his fighter controllers and squadron leaders of what was expected of them and sent them on their ways.

With the calmness of a seasoned professional warrior, General Darrien watched, what was to be his swan-song, set off towards the Alliance positions. Having lost almost all of the Fighter Carriers and the invasion, Darrien knew that his life would be forfeit. Better a blast from his own trusted sidearm than the agonies of an execution chamber, he considered. His suicide would save his wife, his children and their children from the Empress’ wrath. But, it was now a point of personal honour for Darrien to see the total destruction of this Alliance force before he handed over command of what was left of the invasion force to his First Officer and ended his own life in traditional Bardomil fashion.

Calmly, General Darrien watched as the last remnants of the Big Wing sped off into the distance to join the fighter battle in front of the Alliance’s position.

In the War Room of the Memphis, Chulling watched intently as the fighter battle raged on. For a moment, he considered that the Bardomil were about to break and run for safety.

“Sir!” the Scanner Officer called out, his voice close to panic, “we have more fighters approaching from the enemy Carriers!”

“Impossible!” Chulling yelled and, grabbing the Manipulator, focussed the War Table image on the new Bardomil formation that simply could not possibly exist.

Casting a professional eye over this new miraculous formation, Chulling could see that it was smaller than the traditional Big Wing; no more than a thousand Harpoons and a few hundred Flying Devils. But, Chulling could also see that this formation was heavily loaded to the left flank. For a second, Chulling was unable to comprehend what his opposite number was trying to do with this modified tactic.

Then, feeling as if he had just been struck by a hammer, Chulling understood the Bardomil commander’s intentions. The gap between the Alliance centre and right wing was just too vast for Chulling to close in time. The collapsing Bardomil left flank had created a dangerous gap between the Alliance right and centre. The heavy blow on this new Bardomil formation’s left was going to swarm into that gap and sweep away the Alliance centre.

With the Alliance centre gone, the deadly M-Cruisers could escape whilst the Bardomil Big Wing formation would do what it did best. With the loss of the Alliance centre, the heavy left flank would sweep round, reinforce the Bardomil right and cut off the Alliance left flank from their Carriers and Star-Cruisers. The Alliance left flank would then be hopelessly outnumbered, isolated and chopped to pieces. With the loss of those Eagles, Chulling knew he could never hold this Valnarim position. The surviving Eagles from his right flank, and his reserve, were just too few to hold off the remaining Bardomil fighters. The M-Cruisers would return and begin pounding his Star-Cruisers to space dust. It was a brilliantly engineered piece of improvised strategy. And, Chulling knew that he could do very little about it. Thinking quickly on his feet, he began to issue orders. His options were limited, but he would have to try to save as many Eagles as he could.

“WATO, disengage the Eagles on our right and send New Thexxia out to recover them!” he ordered.

The Eagles on the right flank would never make it back to their Carriers in time, but he could, at least, send the New Thexxia to recover them and spare them running the gauntlet of the Bardomil fighters on their return.

“And, start trying to disengage as many Eagles as we can without it becoming a complete massacre!” he added.

Pulling fighters out of a heavily engaged battle was a difficult task. Withdrawing the fighters left them vulnerable to the enemy. Bitter experience told Chulling that such a withdrawal was going to be very costly.

Cursing his opposite number softly, Chulling slammed his fist angrily onto the War Table’s edge as he watched the image of this new Big Wing rapidly approaching the battle zone.

They were the harbingers of doom and disaster.

Chapter 35

Planet Earth

Elizabeth Caudwell took a deep breath and sighed loudly. In front of her, on the kitchen table, amidst the scatter of scrunched up paper, the old electric typewriter hummed quietly. Another chapter in her new work had just been completed. Being alone in the kitchen was a blessing to Elizabeth. This was where she could think, plan and write without the distractions of Billy or John. This was her little piece of Heaven amidst the mayhem of family life and the ongoing house move.