SAW 1: Stars at War Read online

  In an addition to her force, twenty-two missile ships trailed behind her battleships. Now that the battle wouldn't occur in a particle dense asteroid field, missiles could be used without self-destructing. Missile ships were gigantic ten-kilometer freighters with no armor, but carried hundreds of missile packs. Each pack carried ten missiles. When a missile ship deployed, all the packs would be ejected within ten minutes, allowing as much as a thousand missiles to be shot within that same interval.

  This added another layered component to battlefield tactics. The missile war is just as crucial as the standard laser war.

  Now, a third layer added to battlefield tactics. Fighters. Fifteen carriers trailed behind her battleships as well. Ten lights and five heavies. Each light carrier, a two-kilometer vessel, carried one thousand fighters. The heavy carriers carried twice as much. Fighters were just like missiles, in that they were fast and nimble and couldn't deploy inside a particle dense proto-stellar field because of the inability to deflect particles at their speed. All in all, she had twenty thousand fighters at her disposal.

  Then of course, there was her mobile battle fortress.

  More tactical layers meant she could perform more. The problem would be…the enemy also had the same things. She eyed the red dots. Some of those must be snake missile ships and carriers. She did have one major advantage. Because the battle occurred in a heavily fortified human system, she had an additional thirty orbital missile dumps. Each missile dump, or missile pod, contained 150 missiles, therefore adding 4500 additional missiles to her total supply.

  However, the enemy made up for this with the sheer size of their fleet. They had 132 warships, some of which were carriers and missile boats, while others were newly arrived fresh-from-the-assembly line vessels, and the rest were veterans of the Orasis battle…Prion conjectured.

  Once again, they dwarfed the human fleet. Also, by mass, they were monsters. Prion knew this had been the same state prior to the Orasis battle, and so she wasn't too distraught. She felt confident in the quality of her ships…of humanity's technological capabilities.

  She turned to face those of her command staff behind her. "Admirals and commodores, suggestions?"

  Her command staff was significantly larger than Prancort's, not because she wanted it, but because these were the changes Prancort made after the Orasis battle. The fleet admiral believed his lack of more flag officers had been a strategic weakness, especially when micromanaging his fleet during all the asteroid encounters. In addition, because the current fleet had missiles and fighters, she needed the commanders of these high-velocity wings before her.

  "We should wait," said Commodore Brigum. "Let the enemy play his hand. The deeper he comes into the system, the more fuel we have for our missiles."

  "We should attack, immediately! Never show cowardice to these snakes. They think we are prey. We are not prey," said Rear Admiral Gilbert.

  "Let's wait until they've accelerated past the point of no return. Once we know they can't warp out of the system's gravity well, let's deploy our fighters and missiles in a typical entrapment envelope," said a red headed Vice Admiral.

  Silence.

  "Commodore Brigum and Vice Admiral Kirkeis…" Prion nodded at him. "Your suggestions makes the most sense to me. Anyone disagree?"

  Some officers murmured, but no one voiced against it.

  "Then without better alternatives, this seems to be the best plan for now," said Prion.

  Battle Station Epsilon Decimus

  Flag Bridge

  5 hours later...Past the point of no return for the incoming enemy fleet...

  "Deploy fighters and missiles!" Prion ordered, "Admiral Gilbert, unload your missile dumps and missile ships. Commodore Brigum, launch off our fighter force!"

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  Throughout Prion's fleet, missile ships unloaded their capital ship missiles. These twenty-meter long missiles contained 500-megaton nuclear warheads each. Equipped with gravity emitters aft and fore, they could accelerate to 600 Gs. In addition, they had minor ECMs to tackle any anti-missiles the snakes had, as well as the latest tracking quantum computers. Every second, the missile ships dumped out missiles, an act well known as sprouting hairs, which recalled how pre-gravity-field missile ships launched their rocket propelled missile dumps.

  In addition to these missiles, the carriers of her fleet launched spindle like fighters as well. The carriers looked like multi-layered egg-cartons with as many as one thousand ‘eggs’ per ship. When launching fighters, the carrier cartons literally opened out, allowing every egg to eject.

  Inside the flag bridge, Prion stared at the main holomap. The enemy launched their fighters and missiles long ago. The cloud of enemy dots coming towards her now numbered 48921 units.

  On her side, her missile and fighter forces were just beginning to detach from the main fleet. 10,000 green dots...12,000...14,000.

  Prion sat back and watched. Then, she realized something so vital and apparent that it amazed her she hadn't thought of it until now. The fate of humanity rested with her! Without Prancort, she now commanded the human fleet, as well as humanity's entire national strategy.

  If she lost this battle, the snakes would break through the fortified worlds and would be in humanity's backyard. They would wreck everything. They could kinetically bombard planets. They could destroy star factories and shipyards...

  Then humanity wouldn't be able to defend itself—humans would loose the war—and the ability to live on our own planets!

  Suddenly, the gravity of the situation dawned upon her. The expectations. The pressure. Prion nervously bit her lip.

  What would Prancort do?

  She shook her head. No, that wasn't the best way to think of it. What could she do? What could Prion do? She glanced back at the table of admirals. They were all staring at her, except that red-head, Kirkeis. Kirkeis...she’d heard of him. He’d been a legend in the academy along with Prancort. Prancort was first—or was it Kirkeis?

  It didn't matter now. What does matter is Kirkeis is here, and Prancort lies unconscious in a hospital bed, being treated by dozens of doctors. For all she knew, Prancort could be dead. He could have died yesterday with the news still traveling towards her.

  No! She shook her head.

  Prancort! Why did you get yourself injured like this? Why did you leave me with this situation?

  "Admiral," Kirkeis finally spoke, "I believe you’re letting the situation get too much of you."

  "You're right," Prion agreed. "I am. For years, I've wanted this admiral's seat. But now, when I've inherited it, I feel I can't take the enormous responsibility. The gravity of it is nerve wrecking."

  "That's why we are here to help," Kirkeis urged.

  Prion took another glance at the other five admirals.

  They all stared at her.

  Nervousness streaked up her spine.

  Hold together, Prion de Caille. Suddenly, she felt the situation was synonymous to mountain climbing. What did Uncle Ben always? Just don't look down…"Um, let's find out just how powerful our fighters are compared to theirs. Admiral Gilbert? Send out our missiles in an encirclement envelope. Commodore Brigum, escort these missiles with your fighter wings."

  The missile war. The holy grail of missile warfare was to get a large amount of missiles positioned behind the enemy fleet, so when the enemy ships are pinned down by your battleships and forced to face away from your missiles, your missiles could come in and hit their rears and sides. But in order to get your missiles in position so far away from your battleships, one needed to make sure they didn't get shot down by enemy fighters. Generally, a fighter in space could move nearly as fast as a missile. They could take out a missile with no losses, unless the missile detonates on top of the fighter. Thus, there would be the necessity of using your fighters to guard your missiles from enemy fighters before your missiles reached position. Fighters by themselves deal very little damage to huge battleships, because their lase
r armaments are weak and can't penetrate battleship armor. They can take out specific surface protruding targets on a battleship, such as gravity emitters, shield emitters or laser ports, but in terms of wrecking internal damage, missiles far surpassed fighters.

  "Ma'am," Commodore Brigum called out, "I must protest. We don't know if our fighters can beat their fighters, especially since they outnumber ours. Sending them out alone without the safety of our battleships could be disastrous. Not only that, but you're sending them out along with our missiles. I would much rather prefer our missiles stay behind our battleships, until after we've forced their ships to turn their backs on our missiles after both battleship fleets have passed each other, rather than an early envelope strategy."

  "I don't believe in that." Prion blinked. "Our missiles need to strike their battleships' rears first. First strike is a must. The only way to do that is to send them before our battleship fleets clash. Furthermore, if our fighters win the fighter war, they can take out the enemy's missiles before they strike our battleships, unless they keep their missiles very close to their battleships, in which case our battleships can take them out while they hit our fronts."

  "But the scenario you’re chasing can only happen if our fighters can defeat their fighters. We don't know that, yet," Commodore Brigum argued.

  "Now, is the best time to find out," said Prion. "If we assume our fighters can't beat theirs, we will never be able to win by a large margin. Being defensive doesn't win wars. Being defense will mean the enemy can send their missiles behind our rears and our fighters will be forced to fight their fighters anyway."

  "But fighting a low winning probability skirmish doesn't win, either." Brigum shrugged.

  "Commodore, I'm confident that our fighters are superior, and I'm willing to hinge this battle on that. I believe human training and intuition will prevail. How can I explain to our fighter wings that after all this training, I still don't have confidence in them enough to use them?"

  "I'm glad you have more confidence in my fighters than me," Brigum grumbled, as he entered orders into his keypad interface, "I'll do it because I must, but I don't believe it'll go well.”

  Gamma Wing

  Mark Four Space Fighter Call Sign ‘Zeta-1’

  Wing Commander's Cockpit

  "Gamma Wing, align on me!" fighter pilot Bobbi Duke ordered from inside her cockpit.

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  On her map displays, she saw her wing…all 1000 fighters align with her in a gigantic concave lens.

  Her Mark Four space interceptor looked like a spindle in space, twenty-five meters long from tip to tip and fifteen meters wide in diameter. She had two rings that created artificial gravity on her front and her back. On the wings of her fighter, she had two laser mounts, which were very tiny compared to battleship laser mounts.

  "Everybody ready? We got to accelerate to point epsilon in 3...2...1...go!" Bobbi punched her fighter's gravity emitters to full. With a gigantic burst of energy, her gravity engines created a front-back gravity field of 500 gs. On her display, she watched as the rest of her wing did the same thing.

  Ok Bobbi, first battle, no worries. Doing it for the team, for humanity, so whatever happens—happens. "Everybody good, out there? No malfunctions?" Bobbi spoke to her wing.

  At her level of command, it wasn't her job to worry about individual fighter pilots. Being in charge of 1000 souls meant she must think in terms of squadrons as the base unit. Caring about the individual pilot was the responsibility of the squadron leader, not the wing commander.

  "All good," one of her squadron leaders answered.

  "Fine here," said another.

  "Good," Bobbi replied while her body shook. Inside her lukewarm cockpit, Bobbi shook with fright. She’d done well in the simulations, but this was literally her first real battle, as well as humanity's first fighter-fighter battle in many years. She knew she shouldn't be feeling these emotions, especially since she held such a high rank. Suddenly, she worried if her squadron leaders could hear the quavering in her voice.

  Getting to her high ranking position was easy. She did well in the sims, and she could command well, but that was during peacetime. She listened to her superiors, she executed her tasks brilliantly, but now she wondered if any of that mattered in a real battle.

  Bobbi felt afraid. Afraid of being seen as a coward. Afraid of being afraid.

  Her teeth chattered and goose bumps formed on her skin. Is the microphone off? she wondered. She didn't want her subordinates to hear her right now. Especially—right now.

  Her 1000 man wing almost reached their destination, a point in a curve of points that would take them behind the enemy fleet and position them perfectly to attack the enemy's battleships, right when her side's battleships clashed with theirs. The missiles her wing guarded were of even more importance.

  The missiles...

  On her cockpit map, she saw everything happening all around her. The main battleship fleet commanded by Admiral Prion suddenly accelerated forward to meet the enemy battleship fleet. When they met, they would be in laser range and laser contact for about ten minutes, after which both battleship fleets would pass each other and if either side wanted to fight again, they'd have to decelerate and accelerate backwards—turn and burn.

  Bobbi predicted much of what needed to happen…would happen within the first intercept, the first crisscross, and one of the two fleets would decide they'd had enough and would accelerate away from the other.

  This is good, thought Bobbi. Concentrate on the battle. I'm not feeling so panicked anymore.

  In a typical space battle, where the vectors of opposing fleets were so different, where fights only happened during crisscrosses, there would be long moments of peace, with intermittent turbulent episodes of war. This was the same for fighter-fighter battles.

  Her displays beeped. Enemy interceptors!

  Oh no! She knew it would happen, and now it happened. "Squadron leaders, ready your fighters for dogfight ing. I'm reading about 3400 bogeys incoming!"

  "Thirty—thirty four hundred, ma'am?"

  Pause.

  "Yes, I'm reading it, too," said one.

  Twenty other squadron leaders agreed…seeing the same thing.

  "Uh—ma'am," said a voice, "You sure we can take on this many? There has to be a mistake!"

  "I—don't know!" Bobbi replied. "Command hasn't assigned us any extra fighters! I think it's just us!"

  A lot of cursing cluttered the net-comm.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Battle Fortress Epsilon Decimus

  Flag Bridge

  Prion monitored her fleet's formation. It was optimal. A thin sheet of heavy-cruisers in front to take the initial blow, followed by another layer of battleships ten thousand kilometers behind it, followed by another layer. Her juggernauts held the center sheet. A total of five layers or flat sheets with ten thousand kilometers between each. Some distance, but not so much or else her fleet became spread too far out. Effective laser range was one hundred thousand kilometers after all.

  The stratified layer tactic, and the ideal response to the fact that both enemy and friendly battleships had weaker aft and side armor compared to their frontal armor.

  The purpose of the stratified layer tactic would be when the first sheet passed the enemy's battleships, the first sheet could fire on the enemy's aft’s and sides. If the enemy battleships turned to face the first sheet, the second and third layers could fire at the enemy's aft’s.

  This worked against an enemy who balled all his ships together in a massive clump.

  Unfortunately, as Prion eyed the enemy fleet, the snakes formed a stratified layer formation as well, which was the ultimate counter strategy against her formation. This made turning her first layer difficult, because if her first layer turned to face backwards to shoot the enemy's first sheet, the enemy's second and third sheets could fire on her first sheet's aft. The enemy's formation practically neutralized her own.

  Prion bit at her lips. A
long time ago, war strategists asked, "Does concentrating armor on the front of battleships become more disadvantageous than having equal sized armor on all sides"? She now saw the answer was no….still more beneficial to have frontal armor significantly stronger because most of the time, it would still be the front side of battleships that received the most weapon fire.

  It would be just during the crisscrossing when aft and side armor received hits. But before and after the crisscross, the frontal armor always took the blows. Even after including missile attacks, which could come from anywhere…the impact of strengthen the frontal armor in laser battles made it all worthwhile.

  "Commodore Brigum," Prion called out, "Could you strengthen Fighter wing Gamma with additional units? They are facing a 3 to 1 size disadvantage."

  "I'm already over stretched already," Brigum replied. "I told you, we’re outnumbered in fighters. But I'll dispatch some fighters to aid Gamma, ma'am."

  "Please hurry. They're about to engage."

  Gamma Wing

  Mark Four Space Fighter Call Sign ‘Zeta-1’

  Wing Commander's Cockpit

  In her lonely cockpit, Bobbi shouted into her mic, "Squadrons 1-22, I want you to enact the macros we discussed earlier! Ready your formations. Bill and Tom, you guys got aft formation. Shoot the easiest targets first! We need to take out enemy fighters fast, because we're so outnumbered—"

  "We got incoming!" someone shouted.

  Bobbi cursed.

  "They're ours!"

  A sudden relief coursed through her. She found them on her map, too. Five hundred extra human fighters. Now, the numbers were only more than two to one against her. It wasn't—hell, the odds were still terrible.

  "Alright, we got some relief, guys, but it doesn't change the problem entirely," said Bobbi over the net. "We're still heavily outnumbered. Everyone, use your training. Work with your teammates. We'll show those snakes that humans are superior dogfighters!"