The Gathering Storm

Part Twelve

The Valdor shook as the Ithkul energy weapons crackled across her shields. Lights flickered, but Potemkin could tell there was no serious damage – yet.

“Set a new course for grid gamma-twelve,” ordered the Admiral. “All ships – return fire.”

Energy beams reached out for the enemy ships attacking them. Two battleships, already damaged, succumbed to their wounds, disappearing in a flash of plasma, while the rest pulled out of beam weapon range.

The battle had been raging for over three hours, and both sides had been ravaged. Potemkin estimated that his fleet was down to approximately two-thirds strength from damaged and destroyed ships. The Harvester fleet was hurting also. It was a grinding battle of attrition. Both sides had lost about 75 ships, and thousands of brave men, women, Psilons, and Trilarians had been killed. He only hoped they would not die in vain.

The Ithkul had brought a single reinforcement into the Regulla system – another leviathan, just like the one that attacked Terra. And once again, it was proving to be a thorn in Potemkin’s side. He had nearly lost a Trilarian task force attempting to kill it when the Ithkul managed to surround it. Only quick thinking by the Trilarian Admiral and a massive bomber strike had pulled them out, badly damaged, but still fighting.

Admiral Potemkin looked at his tactical display and scowled. His fleet was putting up a good fight, but he was slowly losing the initiative. Rather than causing things to happen, he was reacting to actions the Ithkul made. He was back on his heels, and he needed a way to regain his footing. Something on the display caught his eye.

“Navigator! New course: grid delta-nine. When we get there, turn hard to port and head for grid psi-five. Signal the rest of the task force as to the maneuver,” ordered the Admiral. “Tell the Psilons to move to protect our flank. Prepare to open fire when we’re in range – I want all weapons targeted on that leviathan!”

Confirmations came from the various stations around the bridge as Potemkin’s orders were executed. The viewscreen’s angle on the Ithkul fleet gradually changed. Small flashes of light could be seen – each one signifying another fighter or bomber destroyed, another life snuffed out.

The task force rounded the corner, and the Harvester fleet seemed to grow on the viewscreen. The Admiral had spotted a weakness in the enemy formation as they were maneuvering – at least, he hoped it was a weakness. If he was fast, Potemkin would be able to get a shot or two on the leviathan before the rest of the Ithkul fleet could react. The massive enemy ship seemed to fill the viewscreen. Suddenly, a volley of missiles from his escorts streaked toward the leviathan. A few seconds later, his energy weapons lanced forward, striking her shields. The leviathan turned under the barrage, returning fire. Two of his missile cruisers fell to the monster, but the rest of his task force kept firing, tearing into the massive shields of the leviathan. She fired again.

Red beams reached out from the leviathan, and the bridge of the Valdor seemed to explode around the Admiral. He landed on the deck as circuits fried and panels exploded. Someone screamed in agony. Lights went out, leaving the bridge bathed in the amber glow of emergency lighting. Smells permeated the bridge – Potemkin detected the acidic smell of smoke intertwined with the metallic scent of human blood. He knew right away that his ship had taken a mortal blow.

Admiral Potemkin pushed himself off the deck, brushing debris off his uniform. “Damage report!”

The operations officer pulled himself up and hit some buttons on his panel. “Forward shields gone, sir. We have hull breaches on decks five, eight and nine. Weapon systems are off-line,” he reported, almost apologetically.

Potemkin walked back to his chair and sat down. The leviathan still hung there on the viewscreen. With the Valdor disabled and not a threat, it was firing on the rest of his task force now. They were continuing the attack, but it was faltering without proper leadership. The Admiral took a deep breath, then spoke.

“Prepare to abandon ship.”

The bridge crew looked at him, shocked. The navigator opened her mouth to object, but Potemkin stopped her. “I have made my decision. Clear the bridge. Get off this ship – now.”

The navigator still looked like she was going to object, but then paused, got up from her station, and followed the rest of the bridge crew out. Potemkin watched her go, hoping she would survive the next few hours, and that there would still be a fleet to pick her up at the end of the battle. She – his crew – so many people in this battle – were too young to die. He was too young to die, but he had no other choice in the matter.

Potemkin wandered over to the Navigation station and sat down in the chair the young ensign had occupied only a minute before. He waited a few minutes to give his crew time to escape, watching the battle unfold. His task force was pulling back from the leviathan, and several other Ithkul ships were now trading fire with them. The Admiral took a deep breath, looked at his controls, and began pressing buttons.

The Valdor rumbled forward, her aim true and her mission deadly. Survival pods flung themselves from her broken hull, fleeing the imminent destruction of their mother ship. She closed the distance between her and the leviathan – slowly at first, then more quickly. The Ithkul ship saw what was happening, and fired at the incoming battleship, but too late.

Fleet Admiral William M. Potemkin stood up. There was no more that he could do – his death was assured now. He simply wanted it to take him like a man, standing proud and defiant. The leviathan came closer and closer, until the Admiral could see the gaps between her armor. Then the bridge exploded around him.

The Valdor’s bow struck the leviathan at a speed of over 200,000 m/s. Her shields absorbed a portion of the blow, but they were not designed to stop a 50,000-tonne starship, and they were already weakened from the long battle. They collapsed, and a fraction of a second later, the Valdor slammed into the hull itself. Shock waves from the collision shook the leviathan, cracking open her hull. Potemkin’s ship bored into the leviathan, rending bulkheads and tearing into vital systems. The intense shock caused a runaway reaction in the Valdor’s fusion reactor, which finally exploded in a burst of violence and radiation. The rest of the fleet watched as Potemkin’s ship exploded, consuming the leviathan in debris and plasma. When it was done, all that was left of either ship was barely larger than a fighter.

Ace Pace, the Psilon General, took command of the allied fleet. With their Goliath defeated by Potemkin’s David, the Ithkul stood little chance. Losses continued to mount on both sides as they fought on, but General Pace methodically dissected their fleet, and after an additional two hours of intense battle, a few broken Harvester ships retreated to the Androv system.

The Allied Navy had carried the day, but at a massive cost. Few ships escaped damage of some sort, tens of thousands of people lost their lives, and Admiral Potemkin, hero of the First Battle of Regulla, was dead.

And it wasn’t over yet. The army still had a job to do.