The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) by Edmond Barrett Page B

Mass Shadow than we can, it’s difficult to see how we can close the range without a degree of co-operation from them. If however, our ships do succeed in getting into gun range, then the advantage switches decisively to us. The question always has been – how to get there.”
    “Fighters?”
    “Possibly; depending on serviceability, between us and Planetary Defence we can field maybe thirty five squadrons, but getting them on target is still difficult,” Lewis replied staring into the middle distance. “Although now that the Nameless have fighters – even primitive ones – that means a portion of any strike will have to carry anti-fighter rather than anti-ship missiles. Right now, I am sorry to say, our best hope hinges on them making a serious mistake. And that isn’t much of a plan.”
    The room once again lapsed into silence.
    I shouldn’t be here , Lewis thought to himself. I shouldn’t have to do this, not again . The day before Lewis had made one of his infrequent visits to his assigned office in Headquarters. Mostly he preferred to run his command from Warspite , even when she was in for refit. But in the office, pinned to a wall, was a calendar, one which some unknown individual had continued to flip the pages. On yesterday’s day’s page was a note that Lewis had himself scribbled more than a year before. It had been the day scheduled for him to hand over command of the Home Fleet and end his time as space-going officer. All that remained would have been a two-year ground posting, in which he would provide oversight for weapons development and figure out what to do in retirement. He glanced at Laura. He could remember those days after the last war, when any trip out of port was a journey into the unknown. The universe back then had seemed like a bright and wonderful place. How had it come to this?
    Finally Laura spoke. “Unless I’m dead I will discharge myself by the end of the week.”
    “Are you sure that’s…”
    “I’m going to Brian’s,” Laura cut him off. “I sometimes think we didn’t spend enough time with him when he was growing up. If the worst comes to pass, that’s where I want to be.”
    “His house is well away from anywhere that’s likely to be the target of any first strike,” Lewis said distantly.
    “Paul!” Laura said sharply before continuing more softly, “if you get a chance, please speak to him.”
    “If I possibly can I will, but if I can’t… tell him…”
    “I will. You’d better go. Your mind isn’t here. Either get some sleep or get back to work.”
     
    Lewis’s return to Warspite was subject to a detour to one of Earth’s smaller orbital dockyards, to view yet another weapon system being frantically rushed into service. He’d already seen several that were at such a technologically immature state that they were probably more dangerous to the user than enemy. Still, the presence of Commodore Tsukioka, the fleet’s intelligence chief, indicated this one at least might be of some use. Looking down into the enclosed space of the yard, Lewis saw what appeared to be rows of the fleet’s standard emergency message drone. Some had been joined together in groups of three by a central housing.
    “Alright Commodore, give me the run down,” Lewis said
    “This, sir, started out as a planetary defence project,” Tsukioka said, nodding to General Westenlake. “It was designed to give a stand-off strike capacity to the defence grid and to support to the fighters on sorties beyond Earth’s orbit.”
    “The fruits of our labours,” said Westenlake. “Unfortunately it could have done with more time to be ripened.”
    “We’re calling them torpedoes,” Tsukioka continued. “The drones use what is basically a cut down starship engine. Such an engine doesn’t have the high-end performance of a missile drive, but unlike a missile engine, these can run for several days. The original plan was for something more ambitious, but as an expedient to allow us