Alien Cradle, Jeff Inlo [graded readers .txt] 📗

"What do they have in weaponry?"

"No direct confirmation, but readouts remain consistent with intelligence obtained from the Espial agents on the ground. They appear armed with mimics of our own Spearhead missiles."

"Nuclear warheads?"

"That we can confirm."

"Shit." The general whisked about and made a near dash to his command chair. "The enemy is coming in weapons hot. I repeat, the enemy is coming in weapons hot. Initiate all defense measures. Navigation, get us moving. Plot a course to the nearest base. Get us in push ASAP. Spartan base is the closest, right?"

"Yes, sir," an aide confirmed.

"Relay a message to all airborne melees that they are to divert back to Base Spartan after we're in push. Get a messenger shuttle out now. Send it to the nearest fleet. Command's got orders to hit Semele, so send it there. Read, 'Base at Fenrir under attack. Fenrites have melee response. Need assistance.' And drop the damn curtain. They know we're here. No need to waste the energy. Divert power to countermeasures and engines. How many melees do we have off dock?"

"Only two sir."

"Damn. Navigation, estimated time to hyperlight?"

"Four minutes, eighteen seconds."

The general gritted his teeth. "Too long. Emergency procedures only. To hell with locking down. You've got two minutes, then, ready or not, initiate push. Bring up full monitor display. I want camera angles on those bogies."

Like the separate sides of a die, six terminals relayed a wide angle monitoring of all around the base station. The Fenrite attack ships were imaged on three of the six terminals.

They approached with haphazard disregard for their own survival, like kamikazes, or angry wasps stirred from a nest. Each ship remained on course, displaying little in the way of evasive maneuvers. The Fenrite pilots simply aimed their vessels at the station and waited for their weapon systems to lock automatically.

Had the Planning Station been prepared, Authority melees would have easily crushed the Fenrite assault. The flying skills of the human pilots would have meant the end of Fenrite ships that could not respond to dog fighting maneuvers, but such interceptors were simply not in position, most not off dock at all.

By the time the attacking ships passed beyond Fenrir's moon, only a half dozen melees from the base were in flight. With precision flying, the human pilots engaged and thwarted the attack of several Fenrites, but they were outnumbered and the incoming bogies were spread too thin for a handful of melees to be of any true consequence.

Station Control monitored yet more launches, not from the ground, but from the enemy vessels.

"Missile launch. Missile launch. Enemy bogies have fired."

The general rubbed his head as he peered into the display screens. "Fire all counter measures. Not one missile gets through, not one."

The panel lit up, first with blips identifying incoming missiles, and then, with defensive responses. Anti-missiles, much more advanced then what the Fenrites had used to save their own world, streaked toward the incoming nukes at near hyperlight speed. In some cases, the explosion destroyed not only the incoming missile, but the craft which fired it as well.

Defense panels lit red with an abundance of vectors, course precepts, and intercept links. The number of Fenrite vessels dwindled, as did the number of remaining missiles in flight.

"Radar, any new launches detected from the surface?" the general demanded.

"Negative."

"Any bogies en route that have not engaged?"

The answer was the same.

The news brought confidence to the commander. "Navigation, kill emergency Boscon push. I think we may be alright, but continue to prepare lock down, just in case. Flight Control, how many enemy ships remain in flight?"

"Four, sir"

"Signal our melees to take them out."

One of the last four Fenrite ships fired its missile just as the other assault craft exhausted their own weaponry. The arming device on the Fenrite version of the spearhead was designed to prevent accidental detonation on launch. The safety measure failed and the ship itself exploded in a wave of nuclear fire.

The blast occurred far enough from the station for the base to avoid damage, but the magnetic pulse bathed all ships and weapons in the region.

The flash on the screen held the general's attention for only a split second. "That was nuclear detonation. What the hell happened?"

The din of communications turned into a massive blare. Operative shouted out downed sensors and image echoing. Control displays flashed with confused precepts. A single aide shouted clear enough for the general to hear.

"A Fenrite warhead detonated on launch. Some kind of misfire. Our countermeasures never reached it. I've lost contact with it. It may have lost its lock and is searching for a new target. Recommend abort and self-destruct."

That single countermeasure was not the only defense system to lose its lock. The wave from the nuclear detonation jammed other countermeasures. Anti-missiles previously locked on incoming Fenrite Spearheads with nuclear payloads lost their targets. The defenses misfired and three enemy warheads impacted on the hull of the Planning Station. The devastation was near complete.

Semele's satellite space control picked up the incoming Authority vessels just as the fleet-sized accompaniment dropped out of Boscon push.

Pirate cruisers scrambled to intercept. They hit the advance scouts hard and fast. Before Authority combat ships could respond with countermeasures, two dozen Pinwheel torpedoes shredded the hulls of four small escorts.

Semele's defense perimeter of orbital catapults fired Boscon sensitive charges in compact clusters. The large metal canisters locked on the fading Boscon signatures, propelled themselves to a point within the Authority formation, and detonated en masse. A large cloud of chemically corrosive gasses rotated in the very midst of the arriving fleet, forcing the Authority vessels to break formation or face hull decay.

Each of these defenses was anticipated by Authority Command, and Fleet General Hollins issued his first combat order.

"Mist that cloud with detergents. Neutralize it before any of our own ships fly into it by mistake."

While watching clipper ships shoot absorbent crystals through pressure cannons, Hollins issued orders to the carriers in the group.

"Keep all fighter class ships on alert, but don't launch." He demanded immediate status reports from his com links. "What's the damage report on their initial attack? Any manned ships struck by their torpedoes?"

"No, sir. The four ships struck were all decoys. Three of the remotes no longer functioning. The fourth is still responding."

"Send the functional ship around the far side of Semele. I want them worrying about their flanks and focusing on remotes, not us. Self destruct the other three before they can get any readings. I don't want them to know that they're targeting decoys. And initiate attack pattern Pharaoh."

The main display lit up with three bright flashes indicating the fulfillment of the general's orders regarding the decoys. Sector status charts affirmed fleet movement toward the proper formation.

The commander stole a glance at the time table displayed on a planning console. "Five seconds to Sibling. Give me immediate confirmation."

Over three dozen Boscon signatures appeared on the surveillance displays just as a radar tech announced confirmation. "Sister fleet has arrived."

Semele was now sandwiched by two attack groups. Pirate cruisers broke off all forward attacks. They had managed to destroy the fourth unmanned decoy, but only now realized the scope of their dilemma. Raider captains pulled their cruisers back, deferred all engagement against the Authority fleets. They tried to coordinate a flank run, but all ship-to-ship messages drowned in a sea of communications.

The Command Station of the flag ship hummed with message transmissions. Coordinated attack plans, both real and deception, flowed through uuencoded channels.

"Let 'em chew on that for a while," Hollins growled, but a satisfied nod graced those around him.

The SH-4 spy vessel slowly altered its course just before the sister fleet arrived near Semele.

"The Authority is coming in," Taranson advised as he flipped flight control back to manual. "I'm transmitting a coded identifier. Authority vessels will know we're here, but no one else. I don't want anyone flying into us by mistake. I'm also easing back so we don't get caught in a cross fire."

A scowl crossed Jack Lasonelli's face. "You just make sure you maintain a lock on our three targets down there. I don't want anyone of them to leave that complex alive."

"Don't worry. I've got a lock on all three. They're all there."

Jack peered through the viewshield at the arriving Authority fleet. "Have your ops monitor the battle, but the main priority of this vessel is to maintain surveillance on our three marks."

"Confirmed. Auxiliary sensors tracking pirate and Authority vessel movement. Reports will be sent to your terminal."

Display maps offered a three dimensional tactical of the battle. Right after breaking ranks to avoid the corrosive defense cloud, Authority ships regrouped to a pyramid formation. A large space carrier sat at the top.

Taranson offered his own findings. "A second attack group has just dropped out of Boscon. Authority vessels are transmitting uuencoded attack formations on all channels. They're flooding the wavelengths."

"You still got a hold on Scampion and his friends?"

"Affirmative. Still in a secured room, no other marks. They're still discussing the merits of Scampion's findings."

"They aren't trying to evak?"

"Not yet. They might not know what's going on outside. No one has come into warn them and no one's receiving any transmissions."

Jack shook his head. "Careless for such an infamous pirate" He scanned the viewshields once more. Marauder cruisers continued to follow rogue Authority crafts, but the larger ships engaged with a great hesitancy. They fired weapons from long range and avoided entanglement with the bulk of the Authority strike group. Smaller pirate controlled ships darted about like buzzing flies, moving too quickly to be of any true threat, but also avoiding Authority tracking guns.

Jack monitored the battle reports with a growing appreciation for what was to come. Both the display terminals and the transmitting channels were filled with confusion, but one overriding fact stood clear. The Authority fleets were converging on Semele and the current formation revealed an impending surface attack. With the number of ships involved, Semele's fate was assured.

"This is how they should've handled the Fenrites," the coordinator mumbled to himself.

The words caught the pilot's ear but Taranson said nothing. He maintained his charge of keeping a fix on Rath Scampion, Angelo, and Opal Stelbound.

The Authority vessels continued to press forward. The two fleets merged in Semele's shadow. The pyramid expanded at the base, and picket ships launched defense measures to thwart any counter offensive. Within the spherical outline of the planet's shadow, the frigates and cruisers shimmered like beacons of doom, but it was the larger vessels near the top of the formation which would carry death to the planet. The space carrier at the pinnacle of the pyramid launched all craft, and a blanket of melees, blitzers, fighter escorts, and bombers took flight toward Semele's atmosphere.

Jack saw the finality in what was to come next. "Tell me if anyone leaves that conference room, or if any guards enter. It looks like this is coming to a conclusion and I don't want any loose ends. I want confirmation that each one of those targets is dead. The Authority is going to want confirmation of Angelo's death, but it's Scampion I want."

Near pure silence. Only the whir of a few ventilation fans broke the emptiness of sound. Angelo stared almost