The shooting was wild and furious, arching in every direction. Two fighters vanished in brilliant flashes as the murderous crossfire reached a fever pitch. However, the Earth ships were just as deadly, as hits were scored on the pod.
Plasma tracers penetrated the pod’s armored hull and raked the interior of the craft. Equipment blew up and things were holed as Gagarin heard the death screams of several marines, but he refused to take his eyes off of his monitor as he tried to steer the vehicle away.
Pushing the throttle up as fast as it would go, the pod speedily descended further into the asteroid belt. Stephan fought to evade the larger rocks and boulders that seemed to be everywhere. He cursed the drifting stony chunks as he savagely combated them to maintain control.
Yet as spitefully as the meteors plagued him, so did they also plague the Earth fighters that followed. The machines, however, lacked the human intuition Gagarin had, which became a severe handicap. Postulating the random courses of the wayward rocky projectiles or guessing what direction they might turn became impossible. One by one they were struck down and smashed to bits by the relentless surge of stone and ice. Finally, the last one died as small fist-size craggy lump destroyed its power plant, denying the fighter any thrust for propulsion. It was then crushed in an impact with a meteoroid.
The ordeal, however, was far from over for the pod. All at once, Gagarin noticed on his scanner screen that something very large and out of control was on what was an intercept course with them. Stephan kicked the rudder hard as he could, while trying to escape. The merciless asteroid, however, unerringly bore down upon him, plowing through everything in its path.
* * * * *
Selena was pleased at the report that a Martian patrol craft had been spotted and attacked within the asteroid belt. Although all contact had been lost with the flight of drone fighters, their last communication indicated that the craft had been hit and sustained heavy damage. She was sure that by now it had been obliterated.
Darius then contemplated her next move. Without the reconnaissance vehicle spying on them, advancing in any direction unhindered, or taking any action to draw the Martians out into the open were all within the range of her possibilities. A strategy soon came to mind; one she hoped that would draw them to her. However, she needed something to motivate it, something that would make them believe that she was acting irresponsibly and unthinking. Her wish was soon granted.
“Admiral!” Captain Renee called out to his superior.
“What now?” her question was filled with annoyance.
“We’re being hailed by the captain of a Martian cruiser—the Mir!” informed Renee.
Selena became amused as well as curious. Her face broke into a sly smile. “Put him on.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Renee was quick to comply. With the wave of his hand, a floating silver globe that was the command and control computer activated the ship’s communications network.
“Mir, this is Admiral Darius of the Quinton,” Selena stated, “and to whom am I speaking with?”
A small chuckle came over the loudspeaker. “Why, it’s your old shipmate,” the familiar voice announced, “Commander Vincent Trager!”
Selena’s calm demeanor was transformed instantly into a crazed look. “Trager, you turncoat, when I find you I’ll have your innards ripped out!” she promised hatefully.
“Now, now, Selena, let’s not get rude. I just wanted a little chat with you,” Trager was pleasant.
“What do you want?” Selena nearly frothed at the mouth.
Trager paused for a moment. “Well, the Martians were wondering if you were coming to visit them—before they leave this system in three hours for Valamars,” Vincent lied. “They’re most interested in blasting your fleet of cutthroats to particles. There’s something about the mass murder of helpless men, women, and children that really irritates them. But I did defend you, though. I told them that was your style—and what else could they expect from the coward who ran away from the Arris!”
Selena’s blood and hydraulic fluid began to boil. “I hate you!”
“Not as much as I hate you!” Trager’s true feelings showed. “And if you’re looking for help from Damon and his bunch, the majority of them are now shoveling coal in hell!”
There was a moment of silent between the two adversaries. Their mutual hostility engulfed the very fibers of space, while the tension between the two was wound as tight as a spring. Finally, Trager cut to the chase and broke the stress with a challenge.
“Selena, you have two choices!” Trager dared the cyborg. “You can sit there and rot—or you can come across the asteroid field and meet us in battle!”
Selena snickered. “And if choose to sit?”
Trager’s voice began to relax. “Then we’ll leave—peacefully, quietly—but not before we inform Earth Command of your decision!” Vincent was blunt and sarcastic. “Tell me, what do you think that will do for your promotion and career?”
Selena refused to answer as her features tightened at the attempt of coercion.
“You have three hours, Selena. No more,” Vincent threatened. “Trager, out.”
Captain Renee stood shocked as he listened to the entire conversation. If the Martians disappeared, he too might be held accountable for their escape. He then visualized the unimaginable wrath it would bring from the Earth High Command. There seemed to be no alternative, but to advance. However, Selena went back to being unconcerned.
“Admiral,” Renee addressed, “what are we going to do?”
Selena’s placid behavior quickly returned as though nothing had happened. “We’re going to sit here for ten minutes, and pretend we’re angry and confused. Then we’re going to move the fleet forward—just like the Martians want us to do.”
“And then what?” Renee asked, unsure of his superior’s plans.
“And then we’re going to kill every one of them!” a sneer bent Selena’s lips as her hate of Trager returned. “Contact O’Donald, have him gather a small force of cruisers and destroyers. He is to wait several minutes after the main body of the fleet departs. He is then to circle to starboard, keeping as low a profile to the asteroid field as possible. Once we are engaged with the Martians, I will signal him to strike them from their flank and their rear. We’ll then crush them in between us. Any questions?”
A smile returned to Renee’s face. “No, Admiral, none what so ever!” he approved.
* * * * *
As the Earth fleet divided into two divisions and sailed swiftly into the vast asteroid field, a solitary figure watched from his forlorn observation post that floated well above the barrier of ice and stone. The tattered and smashed remains of a Martian Marine boarding pod still provided the man with some protection, regardless that it was thoroughly shot-up and breached in several places. Adding to this, most of its equipment systems were either inoperable or demolished. Yet, like the man, the craft still survived.
The eyes of the lone marine followed the Earth ships’ progress until they disappeared into the sea of rocks that stretched to the horizon. He then turned to a battery-powered transceiver and switched it on.
“Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Do you copy?” the sad and weakening voice prattled into his helmet’s microphone. “Enemy fleet on the move! Repeat, enemy fleet on the move! Two divisions! Larger force coming straight across; second smaller force circling from starboard! Do you copy, Right Guard?”
Gagarin paused to look about the pod’s darkened interior once more. Part of him refused to acknowledge the fate of his marines, but there was no denying it; his entire squad lay dead, scattered about the pod. Some were so horribly mangled from the glancing impact of the asteroid and other debris that he could not tell who they were. Others died from raking the pod took from the plasma fire. It was a vision of incomprehensible horror.
Stephan’s face was sticky from the dried tears that covered his cheeks—and h
e felt so drained. Still a spark of duty persisted in his soul, a duty that had to be performed—before he joined his friends in death.
“Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Goat-Screw to Right Guard! Do you copy?” the marine repeated once more. “I say again! “Enemy fleet on the move! Enemy fleet on the move! Two divisions! Larger force coming straight on; second smaller force circling from starboard! Do you copy, Right Guard? Do you copy?”
* * * * *
Chapter 25: Showdown
The Martian fleet assembled into a staggered wall formation as it prepared for battle. Although this type of pattern played well for safety concerns of not having any ship above or below another should one be destroyed in a flash of incendiary death, the formation held three other significant military purposes.
The first was to grant more mobility to the smaller fleet. Unlike the Earth flotilla, which required all ships to be packed closely together in order to use their matrix weapon, the Martians were free to rein at will to either attack or evade.
The second reason was to confront the Earth formation in its entirety. This was to ensure maximum loss of the Earthers’ assets, while denying the Earth armada any maneuver or escape.
The final reason, however, was the most crucial. It was not only to mask Wakinyan’s true intentions, but also to mislead the Earthers into making a major tactical blunder. But this was all guesswork on Wakinyan’s part.
Stretching close to the full length of the Earth fleet’s assumed battle formation, the lack of numbers was telling upon the Martian forces. Only two complete rows were filled. A partial third row steadied the Martian formation at the center, where it could be quickly sent to bolster any faltering part of the line.
The ships that made up the majority of vessels were space destroyers. Strategically placed at intervals, however, were the great Martian battle cruisers. With their designated fields of overlapping fire, maximum devastation was guaranteed to be brought upon the enemy formation as they closed in.
Behind the warships, Tara’s taskforce of freighters and supply vessels were busy laying a carpet of space mines just above the asteroids. Hidden deliberately from any Earth sensors by pre-set electronic signal patterns, the cloaking powers of the distortion field generators of the Martian warships made the mines virtually invisible. This was easy since the minefield was also as long as the naval formation. Similarly, the mines were also staggered, but horizontally.
The formation of mines was three times the length of the Quinton. It needed to be this depth in order to counter the Earthers’ battle matrix system, but that was only part of the mission the high explosives were to play in the coming battle. The plan, however, required every mine the Martians had.
The Ariana appeared out of hyperspace with her final load of mines. The ship, however, was saving these munitions for another purpose. Instead, the vessel quickly traversed the minefield for inspection of its defensive layout.
With the ship’s scanners, a newly commissioned squadron leader, Captain Tara Nargis of the Martian fleet carefully scrutinized the handiwork of her smaller taskforce. All was in order and ready as the last of the preparations were made.
It was a shocking change for Tara, who was not use to such responsibility or the protocol of the military. Wakinyan, however, thought the woman more than capable, and placed her in charge of the mine laying. To her own amazement, she was learning fast.
Tara, along with all of the other mutant officers, was formally inducted into the Martian fleet itself right after the conference. Wakinyan meant to keep his promise to them and this was his way of doing it. By the order of the fleet commander, all became Martian Mariners. Her crew, which now consisted of both Martians and mutants, were all to be seen as the Martian fleet. Furthermore by her new rank, she was not only in command of the mutant freighters, but also the Martian fleet’s supply ships as well. Additionally, this taskforce was to be an active participant in the battle itself.
Tara stood restlessly breathing the recycled air of her space suit. As her freighter traversed mile after mile over the minefield, she thoroughly analyzed the arrangement with the ship’s sensors.
Although the floating explosives were expertly placed according to Wakinyan’s instructions, something was not right. It drifted in and out of Tara’s thoughts, becoming more than an annoyance. All of a sudden, it was transformed with great clarity into a biting fear that touched her mind in both pain and premonition. It was as though an invisible knife had suddenly stabbed her in a hard stroke. The woman shook and trembled from its terrible blow, nearly falling to the deck. Nausea taunted her stomach in waves. As it finally relented, she realized its significance. Her heart pounded furiously faster.
The omen was surrounded by the unmistakable taint of death, and it terrified Tara greatly. She knew such dread once before—and was powerless to stop it. The omen did not come alone, however. A blinding ray pierced its darkness, adding a promise of hope. A means filled her cargo bay that could unravel the prophecy of doom, but it required the bravery and the will to use it. Facing the consequences of the unknown was its price, however. It was a momentous decision placed in the woman’s hands—but it only took a moment for her to decide.
Tara quickly turned to her second in command. “Martin,” she called out in a mental request, not wanting anyone else to hear.
Her friend, Lieutenant Martin Pearl, swiveled his head in response to Tara’s summons, which came in pleaded urgency. Immediately dropping his appointed labors, he swiftly paced to her side at the beckoning.
“We’re not going to dump all our mines in the attack,” Tara with her thoughts informed the officer of her decision. “I want you to keep twenty of them in reserve. They’ll be armed with the others, but they won’t be deployed until I say so.”
Martin, however, was unsure of her decision. “Tara, if we take a hit, they might go off! I wouldn’t advise it,” he spoke his opinion bluntly, but with respect.
“Please?” Tara appealed to her friend.
From the look on Tara’s face, it was evident she knew something he didn’t, and this he was not about to question. Instead, Martin gave the women a gentle smile and a touch of his hand—and then made it so.
* * * * *
Tara was not the only one vexed by fear. As Wakinyan gazed through his space helmet’s visor at the Crazy Horse’s main viewer, his mind went into a light trance. His eyes were fixated on the two enemy divisions of ships slowly converging on the Martian fleet’s position. The main battle fleet was coming straight on, while the smaller force was stealthily circling slowly. Martian patrol ships placed strategically high above the asteroid field monitored the smaller armada with no trouble, even though the enemy vessels remained totally obscured by the stony horizon from the Martian warships. The patrol vessels watched with a bird’s eye view of the enemy’s progress. It made tracking them with passive scanners easy. Their valuable information was then fed directly back to the Martian fleet.
Wakinyan took a deep breath, as a knot formed in his stomach. Richard’s eyes then glanced over his own line of ships. It seemed they were so pitifully few compared to the approaching hoards. He hoped his defense would be enough to counter the enemy. So many brave men and women were gambling on his leadership. For their sake, he had to make this work.
Richard’s mind wandered a little more, as he sat in his command seat. He remembered the courageous squad of marines that he sent to give the initial alert. It was a hard decision, but the situation was too critical. Gagarin’s faint transmission was barely audible, but it did provide the crucial warning and key to the Earthers strategy, allowing Wakinyan enough time to alter his plan and prepare for the flanking attack. However, it was apparent that the boarding pod was in trouble. By not maintaining the transmission, it was almost certain that they had sustained battle damage—and casualties.
Asking for volunteers from his remaining marines, Richard dispatched several unarmed shutt
les in an attempt to find and rescue the missing craft, but he knew the odds were against it. He then wished he could wake up from this nightmare.
“The main force is less than twenty minutes out, Commander,” Randall’s abrupt words shook Wakinyan out of his stupor. “Secondary division, less than thirty minutes away,” he continued his report.
“Bring all ships to general quarters. Tell Tara to get her freighters the hell out of here right now, and to be ready when she gets the signal,” Richard ordered.
“Aye, Sir,” James acknowledged as he turned to go, but Randall stopped before he walked away. “You know, an ego is a crazy thing to base a strategy on,” he said.
Richard frowned. “Well, it’s as much a part of warfare as anything else.”
Randall gave a quick nervous laugh. “Hope it works!” he added.
“Me too!” a very serious Wakinyan replied in a whisper.
* * * * *
The Crimson Fleet advanced steadily just above the vast asteroid field of the Valamars System. In the infinite silent of space, the perception of the huge red ships was ominous. They were the Earth’s daggers aimed at every Martian heart, presumably deadly and unstoppable. However, prudence brewed upon the bridge of the Quinton.
As the Earth Armada closed in, Selena stared at her main viewer unbelieving at what she saw. The Martian fleet was patterned in a wall formation that was unmoving and waiting—like some predator poised in a jungle. They were daring her to advance.
“Come to a full stop and halt the fleet, now!” Darius commanded Renee, unsure of what to think.
The Crimson Fleet then came to an immediate halt by her order.
“What’s wrong, Admiral?” Captain Renee questioned. “They’re nearly within firing range?”
Darius, however, paused to gather her thoughts. “Something’s not right! Why would they take a wall formation with no fighter cover? If they know we’re going to use the battle matrix system, why make it easy for us to destroy them?” she question herself as much as she questioned Renee.