Rumors of Honor (System States Rebellion Book 2) by Dietmar Wehr Page B
Authors: Dietmar Wehr
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without
waiting for orders. She hadn’t ordered it, because there was no rush. Alpha3
called for one volley only. Additional missile volleys would only be fired if
needed after the first volley hit.
“Fine,”
said the CO.
As
he strapped himself in the Command Chair, which Remington thought was
completely unnecessary and overly melodramatic, she said, “Request permission to
remain on the Bridge, Captain.”
He
looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Permission granted.”
She
stepped over to stand near the Tactical Station. Maybe my physical presence
will help calm Weps down.
SSU
Task Force:
Commodore
Montoya was puzzled. Radar had identified six ships in orbit around Makassar,
but only one of them had fired missiles. He found it difficult to believe that
there was only one warship defending this planet. The other five weren’t acting
like unarmed freighters anxious to get away from a combat situation. They were
maneuvering like warships, so why weren’t they firing missiles? His squadron
was still too far away to fire accurately on the planet and wouldn’t be in
optimum firing range for another 44 minutes. That was the whole point of coming
in slow. Decelerate down to virtually zero velocity at close range and pound
the various industrial targets as they came up over the horizon, while the
defending ships wasted their HE and KE missiles against his squadron’s neutron
armor. He hated it when the enemy didn’t do what they were expected to do.
He
was tempted to order those eight incoming missiles taken out with AMMs, but the
mission plan specifically called for allowing enemy missiles to shatter against
the armor. Besides, his heavy cruisers didn’t have a full load of AMMs, because
they didn’t think they’d need them. If he started actively defending against
incoming missiles, his squadron would soon exhaust their limited supply of
AMMs, and then additional incoming missiles would hit their hulls anyway. So
why not just let the armor do its job?
With
time to impact just seconds away now, Montoya leaned forward to get a better
view of the main tactical display. She watched the red icons merge with the
green icons of his ships…and was thrown to one side so violently that his
vision blurred. The Bridge lost power. When the emergency lights came on, he
realised that the artificial gravity was still working. Thank God for that!
Several people were shouting in panic or in pain. He couldn’t tell which. His
Command Station console was dark, as was the main display.
“What
the hell hit us?” yelled the Helm Officer. It was a good question. The only
thing that Montoya could think of with that much power was a fission or a
fusion device. He needed to get the ship’s power back on if they were to have
any chance of surviving this battle.
“We’ll
figure that out later,” he said in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Right now
we have to restore main power. Bridge to Engineering?” There was no reply.
“Helm, get down to Engineering and find out how quickly they can restore main
power!” The Helm Officer nodded her acknowledgement and sprinted for the exit.
After checking, Montoya discovered that no one on the Bridge was seriously
hurt, but without internal communications it was impossible to know how the
rest of the crew fared. The lack of power was maddening. His ship was deaf,
blind and almost certainly crippled. He had no idea of the condition of the
other three ships, nor did he know if the FEDs were firing more missiles at
them.
It
was at this point that two things happened almost simultaneously. The Helm
Officer returned and main power came back on. Montoya listened to the officer’s
report.
“Whatever
hit us caved in part of the hull on the lower side, decks two through seven.
That disrupted power conduits. The XO and the EO figured out how to reroute
main power to the upper half of the ship. The bad news is maneuvering, Skipper.
The best we
waiting for orders. She hadn’t ordered it, because there was no rush. Alpha3
called for one volley only. Additional missile volleys would only be fired if
needed after the first volley hit.
“Fine,”
said the CO.
As
he strapped himself in the Command Chair, which Remington thought was
completely unnecessary and overly melodramatic, she said, “Request permission to
remain on the Bridge, Captain.”
He
looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Permission granted.”
She
stepped over to stand near the Tactical Station. Maybe my physical presence
will help calm Weps down.
SSU
Task Force:
Commodore
Montoya was puzzled. Radar had identified six ships in orbit around Makassar,
but only one of them had fired missiles. He found it difficult to believe that
there was only one warship defending this planet. The other five weren’t acting
like unarmed freighters anxious to get away from a combat situation. They were
maneuvering like warships, so why weren’t they firing missiles? His squadron
was still too far away to fire accurately on the planet and wouldn’t be in
optimum firing range for another 44 minutes. That was the whole point of coming
in slow. Decelerate down to virtually zero velocity at close range and pound
the various industrial targets as they came up over the horizon, while the
defending ships wasted their HE and KE missiles against his squadron’s neutron
armor. He hated it when the enemy didn’t do what they were expected to do.
He
was tempted to order those eight incoming missiles taken out with AMMs, but the
mission plan specifically called for allowing enemy missiles to shatter against
the armor. Besides, his heavy cruisers didn’t have a full load of AMMs, because
they didn’t think they’d need them. If he started actively defending against
incoming missiles, his squadron would soon exhaust their limited supply of
AMMs, and then additional incoming missiles would hit their hulls anyway. So
why not just let the armor do its job?
With
time to impact just seconds away now, Montoya leaned forward to get a better
view of the main tactical display. She watched the red icons merge with the
green icons of his ships…and was thrown to one side so violently that his
vision blurred. The Bridge lost power. When the emergency lights came on, he
realised that the artificial gravity was still working. Thank God for that!
Several people were shouting in panic or in pain. He couldn’t tell which. His
Command Station console was dark, as was the main display.
“What
the hell hit us?” yelled the Helm Officer. It was a good question. The only
thing that Montoya could think of with that much power was a fission or a
fusion device. He needed to get the ship’s power back on if they were to have
any chance of surviving this battle.
“We’ll
figure that out later,” he said in what he hoped was a calm voice. “Right now
we have to restore main power. Bridge to Engineering?” There was no reply.
“Helm, get down to Engineering and find out how quickly they can restore main
power!” The Helm Officer nodded her acknowledgement and sprinted for the exit.
After checking, Montoya discovered that no one on the Bridge was seriously
hurt, but without internal communications it was impossible to know how the
rest of the crew fared. The lack of power was maddening. His ship was deaf,
blind and almost certainly crippled. He had no idea of the condition of the
other three ships, nor did he know if the FEDs were firing more missiles at
them.
It
was at this point that two things happened almost simultaneously. The Helm
Officer returned and main power came back on. Montoya listened to the officer’s
report.
“Whatever
hit us caved in part of the hull on the lower side, decks two through seven.
That disrupted power conduits. The XO and the EO figured out how to reroute
main power to the upper half of the ship. The bad news is maneuvering, Skipper.
The best we
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