follow orders for once in his life, they are returning to
the fleet.” Harkov allowed himself a moment to envisage having Radec within
chains, kneeling at his feet once and for all…
What fun that we will have together Harkov thought,
already picturing Jon’s face contorted with pain and his screams, begging him
to stop.
“Sir,” the tactical officer interrupted his imaginings. “The
squadron is continuing to accelerate towards the fleet, they are not slowing
down. Time to intercept five minutes and decreasing. They have just armed
their weapon systems! They are going to attack!” The officer exclaimed in
alarm, throwing a worried look at the senior officers.
“What?” Harkov roared, whirling to face Captain Pendleton.
“Launch fighters to intercept them!”
Suddenly all thoughts of his chair flew from Pendleton’s
mind as with a cold sweat he replied. “We don’t have any fighters to launch
Commodore. You ordered all available fighters for the ambush. Hail the
fighter-group in the asteroid belt and order their immediate re-call! They are
to make best speed and intercept the Praetorian squadron.” He ordered, but
even as he said the words he knew that their fighter cover would arrive too
late, far too late. However, their fleet was not defenceless… “Order missile
batteries one through to three to target the incoming squadron and fire as soon
as they have a lock!” Pendleton ordered, at last feeling that he was starting
to get a handle on the situation that had started to spiral out of control.
“Sir!” The tactical officer cried out, “all missile
batteries report negative missile lock. Sir, the missiles will not lock onto
our own fighters!” Shocked, Pendleton fell back into his chair in disbelief.
The missile targeting computers had specific blocks to avoid hitting a friendly
ship by accident. Each missile would take hours to reprogram; they did not
even have minutes before the fighters would be on top of them. Closing his
eyes in despair he wondered else could possibly go wrong?
“Missile launch!” The tactical officer yelled out in fear.
“Incoming fighters have just launched missiles!”
Spoke to soon, Captain Pendleton thought to himself
despairingly…
*****
As Jon nervously watched the minutes count down on the
navigation computer before they intersected with the fleet he began to plan
their next steps. Right about now the fleet would discover that their missiles
would be useless against the incoming fighters. The missiles would just refuse
to lock-on to what they considered friendly ships; however the ships’ gun
batteries were a different matter. They would but cut to shreds as they
navigated through the fleet unless…
“Arm your missiles,” he ordered. “Let’s give the fleet
something else to aim at…” While Jon knew perfectly well he could not shoot at
the fleet, nothing was stopping him shooting at where the fleet would be! The
navigational computer plotted the intercept co-ordinates based on the fleet’s
current speed and heading uploading the target co-ordinates to the rest of the
squadron. Jon waited until they were less than 50 kilometres from the fleet
before ordering… “Fire!”
The squadron was momentarily blinded as one after another,
wave after wave; the squadron released their missiles in the direction of the
oncoming fleet. Upon launch the missiles accelerated away from the squadron
until no missiles remained. Within the space of a few moments 120 high
explosive missiles were racing towards their target.
Then suddenly the strangest thing started to happen. Almost
as if the missiles started to run out of energy they began to slow, first one,
then another, until all the missiles velocity had dramatically decreased. Inch
by inch, meter by meter the squadron started to catch-up with the missiles!
Reviewing the ships sensors carefully Jon confirmed that all
the missiles were following the
the fleet.” Harkov allowed himself a moment to envisage having Radec within
chains, kneeling at his feet once and for all…
What fun that we will have together Harkov thought,
already picturing Jon’s face contorted with pain and his screams, begging him
to stop.
“Sir,” the tactical officer interrupted his imaginings. “The
squadron is continuing to accelerate towards the fleet, they are not slowing
down. Time to intercept five minutes and decreasing. They have just armed
their weapon systems! They are going to attack!” The officer exclaimed in
alarm, throwing a worried look at the senior officers.
“What?” Harkov roared, whirling to face Captain Pendleton.
“Launch fighters to intercept them!”
Suddenly all thoughts of his chair flew from Pendleton’s
mind as with a cold sweat he replied. “We don’t have any fighters to launch
Commodore. You ordered all available fighters for the ambush. Hail the
fighter-group in the asteroid belt and order their immediate re-call! They are
to make best speed and intercept the Praetorian squadron.” He ordered, but
even as he said the words he knew that their fighter cover would arrive too
late, far too late. However, their fleet was not defenceless… “Order missile
batteries one through to three to target the incoming squadron and fire as soon
as they have a lock!” Pendleton ordered, at last feeling that he was starting
to get a handle on the situation that had started to spiral out of control.
“Sir!” The tactical officer cried out, “all missile
batteries report negative missile lock. Sir, the missiles will not lock onto
our own fighters!” Shocked, Pendleton fell back into his chair in disbelief.
The missile targeting computers had specific blocks to avoid hitting a friendly
ship by accident. Each missile would take hours to reprogram; they did not
even have minutes before the fighters would be on top of them. Closing his
eyes in despair he wondered else could possibly go wrong?
“Missile launch!” The tactical officer yelled out in fear.
“Incoming fighters have just launched missiles!”
Spoke to soon, Captain Pendleton thought to himself
despairingly…
*****
As Jon nervously watched the minutes count down on the
navigation computer before they intersected with the fleet he began to plan
their next steps. Right about now the fleet would discover that their missiles
would be useless against the incoming fighters. The missiles would just refuse
to lock-on to what they considered friendly ships; however the ships’ gun
batteries were a different matter. They would but cut to shreds as they
navigated through the fleet unless…
“Arm your missiles,” he ordered. “Let’s give the fleet
something else to aim at…” While Jon knew perfectly well he could not shoot at
the fleet, nothing was stopping him shooting at where the fleet would be! The
navigational computer plotted the intercept co-ordinates based on the fleet’s
current speed and heading uploading the target co-ordinates to the rest of the
squadron. Jon waited until they were less than 50 kilometres from the fleet
before ordering… “Fire!”
The squadron was momentarily blinded as one after another,
wave after wave; the squadron released their missiles in the direction of the
oncoming fleet. Upon launch the missiles accelerated away from the squadron
until no missiles remained. Within the space of a few moments 120 high
explosive missiles were racing towards their target.
Then suddenly the strangest thing started to happen. Almost
as if the missiles started to run out of energy they began to slow, first one,
then another, until all the missiles velocity had dramatically decreased. Inch
by inch, meter by meter the squadron started to catch-up with the missiles!
Reviewing the ships sensors carefully Jon confirmed that all
the missiles were following the
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