Tales from the Service: The First Test of Force 73

2953-01-01 – Tales from the Service: The First Test of Force 73 

While nobody with this embed team (or any other I am aware of) was assigned to the ships of Force 73, we nevertheless do get some datasphere traffic leaking back to us from this squadron. They seem to have arrived in Kyaroh space in mid-December, but specifics are unclear; their mission is far removed from any active HyperComm relay. I’m not even sure how their message traffic is getting relayed back to us; most likely the fleet has a courier route set up to provide slow communication with this force. 

Naval Intelligence has been holding up several of the accounts from this force for further analysis, but we have one which they permitted, which corresponds with the public announcement of the twenty-ninth that Force 73 has fought an engagement against an Incarnation flotilla over one of the Kyaroh colonies and gained control of the orbit-space as a result. Casualties of this battle on either side were not announced. 

Our source for this story claims to be the first mate of a relatively modern fleet destroyer operating with Force 73 that took part in this battle; while he did proide the name of his ship, Naval Intelligence required us to alter or conceal both his name and the name of his ship as a condition of publication. 

Rashid Winton held his breath as a spread of red spearpoints indicating enemy missiles hurtled toward the center of the tactical display. Fountains of yellow mist indicating railshot and countermeasures leapt out to meet them, and missile after missile winked out.  

It was almost enough. There was a moment of wrenching acceleration that threatened to pull his insides out his mouth as the automatic helm controls threw Muskins into an emerency random-walk evasive maneuver and overpowered even the inertial isolation, then a roar louder than any thunder and a shriek of distant tearing metal. The lights on the bridge flickered, then went out completely, taking with them the tactical plot. 

“All stations, damage report!”  

If it weren’t for the earpiece in Rashid’s ear, he never would have heard the skipper’s order. Shaking his head, he swallowed hard against a spinning head and sudden urge to vomit and looked around the bridge. There was no obvious sign of damage to the compartment, but the other five people at the command stations were all slumped insensate against their consoles or just recovering from the effects of a few tenths of a second of extreme acceleration.  Fortunately they’d all been strapped into the crash-padded chairs, so the worst injury in the compartment would be on the order of cracked ribs. 

“Outer hull breached from frame 38 to frame 72.” Lieutenant Sendai, the damage control officer, was the first to respond. “We’ve got several compartments decompressed on decks four and five. plot We’re on batteries ship-wide, and the gravitic drive is offline. Central weapons control and most of the batteries are unresponsive.” 

“We lose the reactor?” 

Even as the skipper asked this, the lights flickered back on one by one, and consoles all across the bridge went from dim low-power mode to full power holographic displays. The tactical plot came back on a second later. 

“Automatic control cut reactor power and tried to start a scram.” MacGowan, the ship’s engineer, sounded shaky on the comms. “But we managed to abort. Reactor power at fifty percent and climbing.” 

“Missile systems operational.” The voice on the comms wasn’t the usual officer for that station, but was nevertheless cool and professional. “Reload ongoing for all launch cells.” 

“Looks like we lost a ventral shear-screen emitter.” Sorian, sitting directly ahead of Rashid, finally announced. As she did, she turned toward the skipper, and Rashid saw an ugly discoloration spreading across her right cheekbone. “I’ll reconfigure the emitter net to cover the gap.” 

“Axial cannon online, but the auto-loader's knocked out. We are prepping for manual reload.” 

“Hellfire, that was close.” Rashid muttered, already scanning the tactical plot. Since their ship had briefly lost drive power, it had fallen back and out of formation; the rest of the squadron was still charging ahead toward the planet and the cluster of enemy ships trying to block their way. Muskins was, for the moment, forgotten. A crippled destroyer could always be recovered or finished off later, at the victor’s leisure. 

“Sendai, get us central fire control and railguns. Forget the engines.” The skipper made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “How’s our sensor coverage?” 

Rashid sat up and quickly scanned his console. “Warning and search sensors are operational. We seem to have lost a few target acquisition emitters.” 

“Keep those active sensors pinging and all the railguns we have warm. If a flight of Coronachs catches us now, we’re on our own.” 

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Tales from the Service: The Cripple of Force 73

2953-01-01 – Tales from the Service: The Cripple of Force 73 

The first sign of trouble almost went unnoticed; a few gray pips briefly appeared at the edge of the bridge tactical display, then vanished within a few seconds. Had Muskins’s bridge crew not been on alert, they might have missed this entirely, or perhaps regarded it as a sensor artifact caused by damage to one of the ship’s many outer eyes. 

The Skipper, of course, was not so optimistic. The moment someone pointed out the phantoms, Rashid Winton saw all the muscles tighten in his commander’s face, and he didn’t see them relax.  

“They’re probing.” Rashid used his sensor controls to sweep one of the active-beam radars over that arc of the local sky, and just barely caught one of the phantoms disappearing out of range. “Trying to see how badly we’re hurt.” 

“Powered radar means powered gun mounts. They know we’re not toothless.” The Skipper stood up from his chair and rolled his shoulders. “They’ll be cautious. Wait until they can gather overwhelming numbers.” 

The best thing to ward off a slashing attack by Coronachs would of course be the support of friendly Magpies, but Rashid knew enough about the situation not to expect this. Force 73 had at least one small carrier among its hulls, but this ship and its squadrons would be sticking close to and supporting the big cruises. There simply weren’t enough strike units around to send some to guard one crippled destroyer while a battle was still going on. 

After a moment of grim silence, the Skipper turned to Lieutenant Sendai. “How long until we have central fire control?” 

“Too long.” Sendai shook his head sadly. “We’ve lost too many sensor points for the automatics. We’re trying to reconfigure some of the sensors as backups for the director but it’s slow going. Maynard wants to go out on the hull to rig some new sensor points and I think-” 

“No.” The skipper waved a hand dismissively. “He’d still be at it when they made their run even if he finished. No sense throwing away lives.” 

“But won’t we all be killed if-” 

“Possibly.” 

This, it seemed, was the end of the discussion; after a moment of blank staring, Sendai realized he wasn’t going to get any more explanation and lowered his head back down toward his console. 

Rashid winced and returned his attention to his sensor controls. If the Skipper was right, and active sensors were likely to make the enemy cautious, liberal and regular active sensor probing might suggest Muskins was not so badly hurt after all. If the battle were going badly enough to force Incarnation ships to retreat, it would also cause their strike assets to be recalled – at least in theory. He’d heard that sometimes a flight of strike craft would be left to deal with a cripped foe even in retreat, abandoning a dozen pilots to assure a warship would never trouble Incarnation forces ever again. Hopefully, they wouldn’t do this for a mere destroyer. 

“Shear-screen net is reconfigured.” Sorian shrugged. “Efficiency is only ninety points, but there are no gaps.” 

“See what you can do to optimize.” The Skipper paced in front of his chair a few times, then sat back down. “You probably have five minutes. Ten at the most.” 

“Aye.” Sorian, with a haunted look, returned to her work. “What do you think our chances are, Skipper?” 

“Hard to say.” The Skipper was silent for a moment as he shrugged on the crash-padding restraints. “One in ten, maybe two in ten, unless we get a lucky break.” His face, though still hard and tense, was neutral; the odds didn’t seem to worry him. 

Rashid set his jaw; he couldn’t let the odds worry him either. Already another hazy grey pip was showing itself at the edge of the display, this time almost dead astern. He swiveled another radar emitter toward it, and almost instantly it faded away. The longer he kept at it, the more time Sorian and Sendai had to get the defenses ready. It might not matter, but if the ship needed a lucky break, every minute it held out was another minute that break might appear. 

 

Lieutenant Winton (that is not his real name) and the crew of his ship did not have to fight their desperate last stand, as it turned out. The battle turned against the Incarnation, and the strike units closing in to complete their destruction were recalled to fight another day.  

Whether other Force 73 units were lost in this battle, Winton did not say, nor would Naval Intelligence permit us to report it if he had. Most likely, if the enemy force retreated early in the battle, losses on both sides were light. 

As to the fate of Muskins (which is not the ship’s real name), we also have no information, but I would hazard a guess (and this is only a guess) that it was stripped for parts and abandoned, if its drive was badly damaged. Force 73 supposedly has at least one repair and service vessel, but a crippled destroyer might be beyond this craft’s ability to restore. 

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