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  “We got seven more Russian light cruisers sir, and at least six destroyers by my count.”

  Somerville only nodded. Even lightly armed the Russian Behemoths still had more heavy plasma cannons than their light cruisers, but only a few. The initial twenty Russian light cruisers had, therefore, carried the majority of the Russian fleet’s heavy plasma cannons. They had now been severely reduced.

  Looking at the plot, Somerville picked out another light cruiser. “There, the fourth cruiser in their fleet. Target it with our forward plasma cannon. Then target the other two at the closest Behemoth. Fire as soon as we come into range.”

  Achilles was armed with three twin heavy plasma cannon turrets. Firing large bolts of super-heated plasma they had a greater range than their smaller point defense brothers. The super-heated plasma proved to be devastatingly effective at shredding another ship, whether it had valstronium armor or not. Usually if ships closed to engage each other with plasma cannons it would end in mutually assured destruction. In a fleet engagement though, if one had an advantage in heavy plasma cannons, then they could cripple their opponents quickly.

  Realizing his fleet was in dire trouble, the Russian commander ordered his fleet to go to maximum acceleration. With both fleets now heading straight for each other, he was trying to limit the time they would stay in plasma cannon range. In response, Villeneuve ordered his fleet to halt their acceleration and fire their reverse thrusters. You aren’t getting away that easily, Somerville thought.

  Suddenly the time had come and Somerville shouted, “Fire.”

  The plasma bolts travelled at close to the speed of light and so there were less than a couple of seconds for Achilles’ sensors to register the energy flash from the Russian ships as they too fired. Then, seemingly out on nowhere explosions filled Achilles viewing screen as plasma bolts tore through the coalition fleet.

  Two struck Achilles, one amidships and one on her repaired nose section. Both punched their way through the valstronium armor and ate into the interior of the ship. The concussive force threw everyone around and Somerville saw at least one of his bridge officers smashed into a command console. The sudden loss of acceleration as energy flow to the engines was disrupted caused everyone to be thrown about again. In dismay, Somerville opened a COM channel to call for a medic as he could see at least two of his officers bent over in their harnesses apparently lifeless.

  Not waiting for anyone else to give him a damage report he accessed the data himself. Already the causality count was at ten and at least three sections hadn’t even begun to report in. The sensors in the forward part of the ship were indicating that the entire forward missile tube had been blown away by one of the plasma bolts that had hit his ship. The other one had impacted the starboard amidships. It had ripped its way along the starboard missile tubes, taking out at least three of them, probably with most of their crew. With a curse, Somerville realized that would be another thirty causalities to the list once someone got down there to survey the damage.

  Opening a channel to the engine room Somerville called out, “Chief, are you there?”

  It took the Chief Engineer almost thirty seconds to make his way to a COM station. When he did Somerville wasn’t surprised to see a nasty gash on his head pouring blood down his face. “I’m here Captain. And thankfully so is my ship. Though she is a little bit worse for wear at the moment. What can I do for you?”

  “We need to get the engines back online as soon as possible. This fight isn’t over yet.”

  “Aye Captain, we’re working on it now. Give us another couple of minutes and we should be able to get you least thirty percent thrust,” the Chief informed him.

  “That will have to be good enough for now but I want as much power as you can give me as soon as possible.” Without waiting for a reply he switched the COM channel off. He needed to see what was going on with the rest of the fleet.

  When he brought up the visual feed he was shocked by the devastation that had been wrought. Two of the three French medium cruisers were gone, along with Vice Admiral Jamison’s Custodian. Two of the American medium cruisers were also severely damaged. Looking at the smaller ships Somerville could also see that numerous destroyers and frigates were missing. Amazingly though, Villeneuve’s flagship looked unscratched. Looking back at the cluster of British ships it suddenly hit him that he was the senior British commander left. His promotion to commodore meant command of the fleet fell on him in the event of Jamison’s death. Quickly, he scanned the area more closely, looking for an escape pod. Maybe Jamison was still out there. There was no sign of any of the pods. The plasma cannon bolts had done their work too quickly. No one had escaped the destruction they had wrought. Reluctantly, Somerville accepted the inevitable. He was now responsible for not just his own ship but all the British ships in the system.

  As he widened the view of the sensors he saw that the Russians had fared much worse. Almost all of their light cruisers were gone and all but a handful of their destroyers and frigates had taken at least one plasma bolt. On the smaller ships even one hit did terrible damage and the Russian fleet looked like a battered collection of ships awaiting the scrap yard. Crucially though, four of their Behemoths remained. One must have been destroyed outright, but the rest, though clearly damaged, still looked functional.

  “The battle is not over,” Somerville announced to the bridge. Those who were not attending the wounded looked at him. “The Russians can still escape with their Behemoths intact. If they can repair them there’s nothing to stop them coming back. The French fleet has been decimated.

  “Communications, get in contact with all the surviving British ships,” Somerville ordered. “We need to find out who is operational. Then get in contact with Admiral Villeneuve and see if he has any orders for us.

  “Lieutenant Jensen, I want you to review the sensor feed. See if you can get an estimate on the damage those Behemoths actually took. We need to have a rough idea how much of a fight they will be able to put up once we come after them.”

  As everyone began to throw themselves into their responsibilities, Somerville had nothing to do but wait and watch. Already the Russians were beginning to stir themselves. The surviving smaller ships were separating into four groups and moving towards each of the Behemoths to provide a protective shield. Then each of the monster ships began to boost away from the colony and towards the shift passage back to Cartier. They had clearly had enough.

  Villeneuve hadn’t though, for as soon as the Russians altered course the communications officer was alerted to another message from the flagship, “new signal sir, General Pursuit.”

  “Very well Lieutenant, send our acknowledgement. What is the status of our ships?” Somerville asked.

  “The medium cruiser Respite is still battle worthy and we have another three light cruisers and eight destroyers from the British fleet reporting ready for action.”

  “Ok, open a COM channel with all their Captains. I guess I’m in charge now. We will have to mourn Admiral Jamison later.”

  “Channel open sir,” the communications officer reported.

  “Captains and Commanders, our work isn’t over quite yet. I want to form two hunting packs. The light cruiser Agincourt and the four destroyers Illustrious, Mars, Triumph and Rapid, will join Achilles, the rest of you are to form a flotilla with Respite. We’ll each take a Behemoth and see if we can prevent them from escaping. If you can close to plasma range target their engines. We don’t have to destroy them, just prevent them leaving. Somerville out,” he said as he closed the channel.

  Switching his focus back to the Russian ships he picked the two slowest Behemoths and sent of a message to Villeneuve saying he was going after them. Once he got permission he sent the orders on to the rest of the British ships and they took off in pursuit. The remaining French and American ships were soon following them.

  As both fleets had flown right by each other it took over four hours for Achilles decelerate, turn and catch her target. By this
stage the Russian Behemoths were strung out in a long line. They would have been safer sticking together for mutual support but that would have let the coalition fleet attack them all. The furthest Behemoth was already nearing New France’s mass shadow and would soon be able to jump into shift space and safety. Villeneuve was roaring after it with his medium cruiser’s top speed but Somerville wasn’t sure he would catch it.

  That was not his concern now. Achilles was about to enter missile range of her target. Somerville had used his flotilla’s better acceleration to get ahead of the badly damaged Behemoth. Now she was decelerating to bring it into range. When he nodded to the tactical officer ten missiles shot out of Achilles’ largely intact port missile tubes. The light cruiser Agincourt and the four destroyers added another twenty two.

  In reply the damaged Russian ships could only fire thirty and when they reached the British ships all but two were destroyed by the point defenses. Agincourt got lucky and managed to jink out of the way of one of the missiles that got a lock on her. The destroyer Mars wasn’t so lucky and took a proximity hit that vaporized the small warship.

  The British missiles had all been aimed at the four Russian destroyers protecting the Behemoth and after a series of explosions rippled around the Behemoth none of the destroyers remained.

  The next British salvo homed in on the Behemoth and got four direct hits and another eight proximity hits. Still, it managed to return fire with twelve missiles but they were easily swatted away by the British point defenses. A final salvo thundered out from Achilles and her consorts. It exploded into the stricken Behemoth and battered it beyond all recognition. As one of the last missiles struck the wrecked shell of the ship it exploded close enough to its fission reactors to cause a chain reaction that destroyed the ship in a giant fireball. When the sensor feed cleared their target was no more.

  With his part of the battle over Somerville then turned to survey the rest of the engagement. Agincourt and her flotilla had successfully destroyed their target. The Americans had actually convinced the third Behemoth to surrender, although it looked like it wouldn’t be good for anything other than scrap. Villeneuve had given up chasing the lead Behemoth and had turned back to harass the last one instead. Even as Somerville watched the lead Behemoth jumped out of the system. The Russians would be getting one of their monster ships back.

  That would be all though, for Villeneuve’s determination ensured the last didn’t make it to shift space. Taking a risk, he charged into plasma range again and took out the Behemoth with six heavy plasma bolts that all struck the Behemoths engines. In return the Behemoth had only one functioning plasma cannon but it got a hit on Argonaute, causing a significant amount of damage. Somerville guessed Villeneuve would take the damage as a fair exchange for with its engines the damaged the Behemoth surrendered.

  With the battle over, Somerville allowed himself to relax. There was a lot of work ahead of him. Achilles needed significant repairs and the rest of the British fleet was now his responsibility. Yet they had done it. It would take the Russians decades to rebuild their losses and they would think twice about invading the French colonies again. He could spare a moment to reflect on the last couple of months. As he closed his eyes to focus his thoughts he smiled when he heard the final report from the communications officer.

  “Sir we’re getting a final signal from the flag,” she announced excitedly. “To all ships of the coalition fleet, New France thanks you.”

  Chapter 7 – An Old Acquaintance

  10th November 2439 AD, the Ouvea system.

  Four weeks after the Second Battle of New France, Somerville was finally where he wanted to be. As soon as the dust had settled from the battle with the Behemoths, he had focused all his energy on getting enough British ships repaired to cobble together a relief force for Ouvea. With support from the ships in orbit, General Ney had systematically defeated the isolated Russian ground forces on New France. Within a couple of weeks, he had been able to free several divisions and under the command of Brigadier General Villars, they had accompanied him to Ouvea.

  Somerville stood on the bridge watching the colony as his fleet approached. What Russian ships had been in the system had fled as soon as his fleet had arrived. Now, it was time to deal with the ground troops.

  “Communications, send this recording to the Russian Commander on Ouvea,” Somerville ordered and then spoke into the visual recorder. “Commander, I promised I would be back. This time I have brought some friends. Your fleet has been defeated at New France by a coalition of UN forces. Surrender now and I promise you, you will receive a fair trial. Threaten the civilians of Ouvea again, and I promise I will make sure you only see the end of a plasma rifle.”

  It took fifteen minutes for a reply to come back, when it did the communications officer summarized, “sir, we have received a communication from the planet. It’s from a local French Major; he says he is leading an element of the French resistance on Ouvea. They have been fighting an insurgency on Ouvea against the Russians. They currently have the Russian commander hemmed into his command bunker. Most of his forces have been defeated but the bunker’s defenses are too strong and they haven’t been able to breach it.”

  “Really?” Somerville said with excitement. “Well then, inform Lieutenant Cassells that we will be needing his marines. We are going to pay the Russian Commander a little visit. Once you have talked to Cassells give the go order to land the rest of our ground forces. Get the French Major commanding the resistance to coordinate with Brigadier General Villars and get our men to where they can do the most good.

  “Hamilton, you have the bridge, I’m going to be joining Lieutenant Cassells,” Somerville said as he stood and made his way out of the bridge.

  “Hold on sir, where are you going?” Hamilton asked more than a little concerned.

  “There is someone on the surface I plan to get reacquainted with, I’m sure you can oversee the landing of our troops.” As Hamilton opened his mouth to protest Somerville held up his hand and cut him off. “This is personal, I’m the ranking officer here and this is my call. I don’t have time to debate it and I won’t be talked out of it. You have the bridge.” Without waiting for another word from Hamilton, Somerville quickly walked the rest of the way out of the bridge.

  *

  An hour later and Jonathan found himself standing in a shell of a building looking out over a scene of devastation. The Russian Commander had dug himself into an old library building in the center of Ouvea’s capital city. The library had been one of the first buildings built by the initial colonists, and they had built it to last. They deserved some credit, Somerville thought to himself. After the French resistance had hemmed the Russian forces into this section of the city, they had mercilessly set about pushing them back house-to-house. The fighting had left no building untouched and many of them were no more than rubble. Plasma rifles and laser cannons would do that to most buildings.

  Not the library though. It was build from a hard nano carbon alloy. From the numerous scorch marks along its walls it was clear it could withstand a few plasma bolts. Satisfied that he had seen all there was to see, he ducked his head back down and made his way to Lieutenant Cassells. Cassells and the French Major had their heads bowed together over a map of the area and were deep in discussion. After pushing his way through some resistance fighters, Somerville got close enough to hear the end of their conversation.

  “They will know your forces have arrived. They will be expecting an attack by troops in combat armor. Our lack of armor has been the one thing that has prevented us from finishing them off,” Major Moreau was saying.

  “In that case I suggest we give them what they are looking for; at least initially. The main bulk of my men can join your fighters in a push towards the central entrance. I will take a single squad into the sewer system with our cutting equipment and some shaped charges.” Pointing to the map he continued, “we can cut our way from this sewer here, towards the library’s foundations. Then once
we are close enough we can blow our way up into the library’s basement. We’ll then fight our way through their rear and meet you somewhere in the middle. You can lead the main assault and the rest of my marines will cover you.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Moreau said, as he shook Cassells hand. “Let me go prepare my men,” he added before he jogged off in the direction of the temporary headquarters he had set up.

  “Nicely done,” Somerville said to Cassells. That had been his one concern. Technically, Moreau outranked Cassells and so he should command the attack. Yet Cassells’ marines would be providing the real bite to the offensive and wouldn’t take kindly to taking orders from a Frenchman. There were limits in how far the British and French would work together. Thanks to Cassells’ plan, he would get to operate independently while the other two squads of his marines would be able to give fire support to Moreau’s main attack.

  “I presume you want to join my men Commodore?” Cassells asked.

  “That’s why I’m here Lieutenant. I suppose I should get into the combat armor you brought for me?” Somerville replied.