“We’ve got a couple of scout boats that we are arming,” Hiram said, choosing to ignore Fuller’s outburst. “We’ll get them to you as soon as we can, but…” His voice trailed off.
Captain Rowe rubbed a hand across his face. “All right, Atlas, we’ll buy you some time. Use it well, it’s going to come dear.”
“We will, sir,” Hiram said. “God’s speed.”
Emily looked at the faces of the other captains and wondered how many of them would still be alive in a few hours.
Admiral Mello watched as the last squadron of five destroyers entered the cauldron. Thus far the destroyers had clawed their way through eighty percent of the minefield, at an extravagant cost in ships and men.
A strong man could shape the universe, if he had the will.
Beside him, he could sense Captain Pattin standing rigidly, radiating disapproval. He studied the holograph display carefully, measuring the depth of the remaining Vicky minefield. The task force still had fifteen cruisers and two battleships, if he included Admiral Kaeser’s Fortitude, though privately he did not think he could trust the Fortitude in a pinch.
Captain Pattin cleared her throat. “The destroyers have run out of anti-matter munitions, Admiral.”
Mello sighed. Without anti-matter warheads, the destroyers would have to scrape away at the minefield with regular high explosives and lasers, just as the mine sweepers and frigates had. They would die quickly. Sacrifice was one thing, useless sacrifice another. “Pull them out, Captain,” he ordered Pattin. “It’s time for the cruisers and the Vengeance. We’ll save Fortitude in reserve.” And out of the way, he thought.
Admiral Mello formed his fifteen cruisers and the Vengeance into a tight arc, with the Vengeance at the center. The formation aligned itself with the hole formed by frigates and destroyers.
“Sensors are showing Vicky destroyers working through the minefield towards us,” Captain Pattin warned. “Can’t get a clear readout, but there could be eight or nine of them.”
“It does not matter,” Mello replied. “They are too late.” He gave the signal.
As one, the sixteen Dominion war ships accelerated and shot a pattern of anti-matter war heads into the minefield in front of them. Five missiles, then ten, then forty, then eighty, shot into the last layer of the Victorian minefield. Moments later, they detonated simultaneously.
Space tore itself apart.
“Gods of our Mothers!” The sensor display on the New Zealand abruptly shut down as fail-safe switches kicked in. “What the hell was that?” Alex Rudd demanded.
“Sir, it looks like they just let loose with a shit load of anti-matter bombs,” Seaman Partridge replied from the Sensors console. “Dozens of them, I think. Last image I had was of sixteen ships in a circular pattern; cruisers, according to Merlin. Plus one very large ship in the center, larger than our battleships.”
Emily and Rudd exchanged a glance. There had been rumors that the Dominions were experimenting with very large battleships. It would make sense to support them with cruisers.
“When do we get sensors back, Mr. Partridge?” Emily asked.
“Another minute, Ma’am.”
“As fast as you can, Mr. Partridge. I dislike being blind.”
The communications screen blossomed to life. Captain Rowe of the Bristol appeared, looking disheveled. “They just took out another five percent of the minefield’s thickness,” he said without preamble. “Bristol still has sensors and I’ll send you the latest readings. Merlin is telling me they can punch through in three more attacks if they continue to use anti-matter weapons.”
“Good Christ, they can’t have that many anti-matter warheads in their arsenal. They just shot off more than the Home Fleet has in its entire inventory!” said the captain of the Emerald Isle. Anti-matter weapons were extremely expensive to make and notoriously tricky to use. You could never be sure what the exact radius would be of the bomb’s blast zone, and if the anti-matter particles spun off into other matter, it would start a chain explosion that would go on as long as there was enough matter to feed it.
“We have to get in there and break up their formation,” Rowe said. “I want the cruiser Australia and all of the Coldstream Guard destroyers with me. We’re going after the cruisers. We’re going to focus on five of the bastards. Merlin will give you targets and we will make a coordinated launch with everything we’ve got. We aren’t going for kills, just trying to fluster them enough to screw up their formation.” His eyes shifted until he found Emily. “Tuttle, I want you to take the cruiser Emerald Isle and the three ships from the Second Fleet and work your way in until you can launch everything you can against that damn battleship. Concentrate on its propulsion system.”
“I’m the senior officer!” protested Captain Specht, captain of the Emerald Isle. She was short and aggressive and very touchy about her place in the Coldstream Guard hierarchy. “I should command this sortie, not someone who has been a captain for ten hours.”
Rowe didn’t mince words. “Cindy, the Emerald Isle is barely able to function. Your sensors are impaired, half your weapons don’t work and the other half can only be fired on manual. Your engine room is held together with duct tape. I need you in the fight, but there is a good chance your ship is going to fall apart once things get hot and you know it. If that happens, I can’t afford the time to shift command to a new ship. Tuttle has already worked with the Yorkshire, Kent and Galway. She gets the job.”
Captain Specht didn’t like it, but said nothing.
“What about me?” asked Captain Fuller of the frigate Everest.
“Johanna, the Everest won’t last ten minutes once the fighting starts, not going toe-to-toe with Duck cruisers. I’ve got something else for you. I want you to return immediately to the Atlas — ” Fuller began to protest, but Rowe cut her off — “and find Lord Henry. Tell him that I have ordered you to remove Queen Anne from the Atlas and take her at the fastest possible speed to Refuge. Get her to safety, Johanna, even if you have to remove her forcibly from the Atlas. Do you understand?”
Everyone understood: Captain Rowe didn’t think they could stop the Dominion attack. He wanted the Queen removed because the Atlas was going to be destroyed.
“Sweet Gods of our Mothers,” someone muttered.
Captain Fuller nodded grimly. “I’ll see you all in Refuge.” Her face disappeared from the comm screen and in a moment the Everest was accelerating hard back toward the space station.
“You’ve got your orders,” Rowe said briskly. “Keep attacking until you have exhausted your missiles, then use lasers as best you can. Don’t let up! We are buying time here. You are to attack until Admiral Douthat reaches Atlas, then break off and regroup there. Good luck to you.”
Emily took a deep breath to steady herself, then looked around the bridge. Alex Rudd was busy tying in the other ships into the New Zealand’s communication system. Chief Gibson looked dazed, but began checking his inventory of missiles and drones. Betty stood at the comm console, tears streaming down her face. She forced a smile when she saw Emily looking at her and nodded, lips trembling. Mr. Partridge was whistling a soft tune under his breath, giving his sensors a once-over.
“Alice, tell the other ships to go to passive sensors and stealth conditions. We are going to go high and attack the Duck battleship from above. Detailed instructions will follow soon.” As soon as I can figure out what the hell I am going to do.