The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) (18 page)

He hissed in agitation as the enemy fleet moved closer.  Some prey were cunning, almost
intelligent
in their cunning, others ... were inclined to panic the moment they encountered true predators. 
These
prey looked to be the former, except there were so many ships in their formation that it was hard to tell who was crewing them, let alone who was in command.  He couldn't tell if sending freighters against his battlestations was a desperation move, intended to soak up his missiles, or if they truly had no conception of the difference between warships and freighters.

“We shall not fall for such simplistic trickery,” he hissed.  “Our missiles are to be targeted on the warships - and the warships alone.”

“Yes, Warlord,” his subordinates chorused.

Warlord Junju ignored them as the sensor readings started to fuzz.  He was familiar with ECM, of course, but
this
was a great deal more advanced than anything he’d seen in his long career.  It was suddenly a great deal harder to target the warships, although it wouldn't matter as much as the prey presumably thought.  His sensors would have no difficulty locating and tracking the warships when they opened fire.  And then ... the warships would no longer be able to hide. 

“Enemy ships are entering engagement range,” one of his subordinates warned.  “Enemy ships are opening fire ...
impossible
!”

***

“Burn, you bastards,” Hoshiko muttered.

The engineers had done her proud, as always.  They’d crammed hundreds of missile launchers and thousands of missiles into the freighters that made up Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2.  The Druavroks could not possibly have expected to see so many missiles from only a hundred ships ... and, if they had a moment to think about it, they’d have good reason to worry about what the remainder of her fleet might be carrying.  A solid wall of nuclear firepower was making its unstoppable way towards the enemy battlestation.

“The enemy are opening fire,” Brown reported, as the battlestation began to spit fire towards her fleet.  It was pathetic, utterly pathetic, compared to the single giant volley she’d hurled at the battlestation.  “They’re targeting Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2.”

“Order them both to jump out, as planned,” Hoshiko said.

Her eyes narrowed as the solid wall of icons roared towards its target.  The Druavroks had made a mistake in trying to hit her freighters, the ones that had already shot themselves dry ... why?  Had they thought they were shooting at warships?  She hoped, inwardly, that the enemy wouldn't be able to adjust their missiles to engage new targets, but she doubted they’d be that lucky.  The Druavroks weren't the Horde.

“Forty seconds to impact,” Brown reported.  “Enemy missiles are retargeting themselves on Task Force 3.1 and 4.1.”

“Order point defence to cover them,” Hoshiko said.  She'd feared the enemy would try to use their missiles as makeshift point defence weapons - they could, if they were carrying antimatter warheads - but it seemed as though the Druavroks hadn't had time to think of it before it was too late.  “And ready a second barrage, just in case.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.  A new set of icons flashed to life.  “Enemy ships are altering position.”

“Order Task Force 1.2 to engage,” Hoshiko ordered.  The chance to smash a handful of ships at little risk could not be disregarded.  Their allies would like a crack at the bastards before they were destroyed.  “And move Task Force 1.3 up in support.”

***

“Order all point defence to engage as soon as the enemy missiles come into range,” Warlord Junju hissed.  “We will not be beaten by
prey
!”

He glowered at two of his subordinates until they got the message and went to work.  Their brains had practically shut down the moment the enemy ships - a tenth of their force, no less - had begun spewing out missiles, as if they couldn't accept the sudden shift in reality.  It was hard to blame them, he knew; he’d never suspected the presence of battleships in the enemy fleet, despite their ECM.  And yet, the battleships were jumping out.  It made no sense.  How much of the fleet looming over the battlestation was actually
real
?

“Monitor their formation to determine who engages the missiles,” he ordered, grimly.  If he’d had long-range probes, he would have launched them.  No ECM could hide
everything
from a prowling probe.  “Once you know, reassign the missiles to target them.”

He hissed again as the wall of missiles swept towards his command. 
They
had to be real ... and there were just too many of them to stop.  His subordinates hadn't realised it yet, but the battlestation was doomed.  The
prey
had turned into
predators
.  Indeed, they’d shown tactical brilliance by positioning their fleet so the other two battlestations couldn't
hope
to engage them, while the defending ships couldn’t hope to match their firepower.  Warlord Junju and his subordinates were on their own.

“Order the ships to retreat,” he said.  It would get him in trouble, when word reached the Great Lords, but he doubted he’d survive long enough to face their rage.  And he was beyond caring what the commanders thought.  “They’re to jump out and alert the Great Lords to a new and dangerous species of
prey
.”

The point defence opened fire as soon as the missiles came into view, but for every incoming missile they killed there were ten more that made it through the defences and rammed into the shields.  Warlord Junju clung on to his command chair for dear life as the battlestation rocked, time and time again, before the shields finally failed and the missiles started slamming into the hull.  Damage reports mounted so rapidly that he could barely keep track of them before they were superseded by something new, enemy warheads exploding within his hull ...

... And then the universe went away in a blaze of white-hot light.

Chapter Seventeen

Mobs stormed the palaces of the rich and powerful in Brasilia after the economy, looted beyond repair, collapsed into chaos.  Reports from sources within the Brazilian military suggest that the soldiers flatly refused to intervene, when ordered, as their families are among the hundreds of thousand starving to death ...

-Solar News Network, Year 54

“Commander,” Biscoe reported.  “The first battlestation has been destroyed.”

Griffin nodded.  The Druavroks had fought desperately, but even a human-built battlestation would have found it impossible to stop more than a fraction of the missiles fired at it.  He had to admit the station had lasted longer than he’d expected, yet the outcome had been inevitable.

Score one for the captain
, he thought, although cold fear was coiling through his gut.  Amstar was one thing, but
this
was a direct attack on a world that undisputedly belonged to the Druavroks.  They wouldn't find it so easy to write off the attack, when - if - the diplomats met to settle the war. 
And they’ll feel obliged to hit back
.

***

“Order Task Force 4.1 to target Battlestation Two,” Hoshiko ordered.  “Task Force 4.2 is to target Battlestation Three.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.  He worked his console for a long moment as icons moved over the display.  “Orders have been sent, Captain.”

“All other ships are to target the automated platforms,” Hoshiko ordered.  The handful of remaining Druavrok starships had either mounted suicide charges or jumped into FTL, fleeing the system as fast as they could.  She had a nasty feeling they were only going as far as the nearest enemy squadron.  “I want the skies cleared of everything hostile.”

She sucked in her breath as the remainder of the fleet opened fire, targeting the automated platforms and blowing them out of space.  Like the missiles she’d hurled at the battlestation, it was overkill, but she needed everyone in her fleet to think they’d made a contribution.  She rather doubted any of the spacers would be fooled - they’d understand the realities of interstellar combat as well as her crews - yet if the alien media outlets were anything like their human counterparts, the news could be spun to make it appear that their contribution had been decisive.  Assuming, of course, the aliens
had
media outlets.  The Tokomak had never been big on distributing information to the peons.

And they didn't share movies either
, she thought, ruefully.  A number of human movies had been quite popular among humanity’s closest neighbours, although not quite the ones she would have expected.  The aliens looked at pre-Contact movies about aliens and laughed themselves silly. 
I wonder how long it will be until they start their own media services.

“The second battlestation is under heavy attack, but it’s fighting back,” Brown reported.  “A number of freighters have been destroyed.”

“Move Task Force 4.3 up in support,” Hoshiko ordered.  The Druavroks were doomed, but they didn’t seem to care.  She would have been impressed if they hadn't been her enemies, the bastards she had to kill.  “And angle Task Force 1.2 over in that general direction, just in case they need additional point defence.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.

Hoshiko nodded and turned her attention back to the display.  Battlestation Three hadn't been anything like as lucky as Battlestation Two, although there was no way to know
why
.  Her shields were flickering desperately as missiles pounded them into scrap, shimmering in and out of existence as her shield generators burned out.  A handful of missiles made it through gaps in the shields, slamming into her hull and blasting their way into her interior.  The end could not be long delayed.

“Picking up multiple drive signatures on the surface,” Brown snapped.  “They’re launching small craft.”

“Odd,” Hoshiko muttered, tearing her attention away from the doomed battlestation.  The Druavroks on the ground had nothing to gain by launching shuttles ... or did they?  Her sensors hadn't been able to detect any large planetary defence centres, but that didn't mean they didn't exist.  “Keep an eye on them ...”

The display flared with red icons as hundreds of shuttles took off and clawed their way into space.  Hoshiko cursed under her breath, remembering her great-great-uncle’s stories about Imperial Japan and how it had died in fire.  The Druavroks thought nothing of kamikaze attacks, even with starships.  Why
wouldn’t
they turn shuttles into suicide craft?

“The shuttles intend to launch suicide attacks,” she said, keeping her voice calm.  It was unlikely that any of the craft carried weapons that could hurt her warships, but there were far too many soft targets amongst her fleet.  “They are to be targeted and destroyed as soon as they enter engagement range.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.

The Druavroks showed no hesitation as their formation bunched up and roared towards its targets.  She noted, coolly, that they seemed to be more interested in targeting the warships, even though hammering the converted freighters would probably score them more kills.  A highly macho culture like Imperial Japan might well have encouraged its flyers to target warships, despite the mass of firepower surrounding them.  The Druavroks clearly thought along the same lines.

And they have nerve
, she thought, as the shuttles ducked and weaved their way through a barrage of firepower.  No one had managed to make a genuine starfighter, despite plenty of research in the Solar Union, but the Druavroks were flying the next best thing.  Perhaps there was something to be said for missile-armed gunboats, after all. 
But they can’t hide from my sensors
.

She drew back her lips into a snarl as red icons began to vanish from the display, one by one, even as their comrades pressed closer.  The Druavroks couldn't hide, nor could they react in time to escape point defence fire.  And yet they were closing in ... a destroyer, part of Task Force 1.4, staggered as a shuttle rammed into its shields, followed rapidly by another.  A frigate, passed down through so many owners that only the hull could be said to be original, exploded as four shuttles slammed home in quick succession.  And then the last of the shuttles was blown apart, leaving local space clear.

“Battlestation Two has been destroyed,” Brown confirmed.  “Battlestation Three is a powerless wreck.”

“Take it out completely,” Hoshiko ordered.  It was unlikely the Druavroks would be able to repair it in time to matter - it might well be cheaper to build a whole new battlestation - but there was no point in taking chances.  “I want it smashed to rubble.”

“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.

“Take the warships into orbit,” Hoshiko added.  If the Druavroks had a PDC concealed somewhere on the surface, which was still possible, they would have to open fire or throw away their sole remaining opportunity to inflict harm on her ships.  “Is the bombardment plan complete?”

“Yes, Captain,” Brown said.  “Tactical has located and tagged everything in the first and second list of ground targets.”

Hoshiko sucked in her breath.  A modern planet had dozens of spaceports, military bases, communications hubs and power centres.  Taking them all out in a single blow was unprecedented, even on Earth.  But then, the Solar Union had had the technology to go directly after the leaders of rogue states.  It had never needed to rain down death indiscriminately from the safety of high orbit.

We’re not bombarding civilian targets
, she told herself, firmly.  She honestly wasn't sure there
was
such a thing as a civilian Druavrok.  But all that really mattered was ensuring the planet was unable to support the enemy war effort for the foreseeable future.  Once it was stripped of everything that might be useful, it could be left to wither on the vine. 
And there aren't many non-Druavroks on the surface to put at risk
.

She frowned as the holographic display changed, showing the targets on the ground.  The Druavroks had more spaceports than she’d expected, each one including a warehouse complex that was easily three or four times the size of anything she’d seen on Amstar, Martina or Earth.  They were surrounded by ground-based weapons systems, but there didn't seem to be anything capable of reaching up and striking her ships in orbit.  Unless they had something concealed, of course.  The Druavroks hadn't really had time to prepare an ambush, but
she
would have kept half her defences concealed if
she’d
been in command.

And some of them are far too close to civilian targets
, she thought, grimly.  The Solar Union was not foolish enough to believe that civilian casualties could be avoided completely, unlike some of the more absurd nations on Earth, but hard questions would be asked.  Her detractors wouldn’t care that preventing her allies from committing outright genocide was hard enough, not when they’d be trying to score political advantage at her family’s expense. 
But they’re the ones who put them there
.

“Targets locked, Captain,” Brown reported.  “KEW firing patterns are locked and the tubes are loaded.”

“Fire at will,” Hoshiko ordered.  “I say again, fire at will.”

She smiled to herself as the first KEWs fell from her starships.  The Druavrok defences tried to engage the projectiles as they fell through the atmosphere, but her ships had no shortage of ammunition.  KEWs really were nothing more than rocks dropped on a ballistic trajectory, aimed at a target on the ground.  One by one, her targets began to die ...

“There was a major explosion after Target #362 was struck,” Brown commented.  “I think it must have been an ammunition dump.”

Hoshiko shrugged, unconcerned.  An ammunition dump was a legitimate target, as far as the Solar Union’s ROE were concerned.  It might not pose an immediate danger to her ships, but it was definitely supporting the enemy war effort.  And if the enemy
had
put it in the midst of civilian settlements, trying to use their own civilians as ‘human’ shields, the Solar Union’s ROE agreed it was their fault.  But the Druavroks didn't seem to realise they could use intelligent beings as shields.  They cared so little for their own lives, she suspected, that they couldn't grasp that others cared more.

The Tokomak must have been harsh masters
, she thought, as the final targets vanished from the display. 
And the Druavroks just treated them as gods
.

“All targets destroyed, Captain,” Brown reported.  “Their ground-based communications network appears to have gone down.”

“Maybe,” Hoshiko said. 

She studied the display for a long moment.  It was easy to forget that the neat little icons, flickering and vanishing off the display, represented an immensely destructive KEW strike that had smashed buildings, cratered runways and killed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of enemy personnel.  From high overhead, warfare was so clean and tidy; on the ground, it was devastating.  The enemy had been dealt a blow it would take them years to recover from ...

... And yet, she knew better than to take it for granted.  Her grandfather, in one of his rants about the military on Old Earth, had talked about how easily the air force had been fooled into believing its bombardments, with smart precision weapons no less, had been devastatingly effective.  It was quite possible that the Druavroks had a hardened communications network based around wires, rather than signals, and that their command and control system was still intact.  She certainly had no way to know if she’d killed off the high commander on the planet or not.  A human commander would have been on one of the battlestations, sharing the hazards facing his men, but would a Druavrok commander feel the same way?

“As long as their ability to hit the fleet has been crippled, it shouldn’t matter,” she added, grimly.  “Are there any enemy vessels remaining in the system?”

“Not as far as long-range sensors can tell,” Brown said.  “If they’re cloaked and watching from a safe distance ...”

Hoshiko nodded.  If
she’d
been in command, she
would have left a single ship in the system, under cloak, to keep an eye on the invaders while the rest of the squadron went for help.  A relief force could drop out of FTL near the watcher and get an update before either proceeding to counterattack or harassing her pickets, depending on the exact situation.