Chapter 31: Task Force Destruction

Bridge

MSS Hymenator, Mars - Earth Transit

Friday, February 7, 2155

It had been a month since Task Force Destruction had left Mars orbit and a week since Task Force Devastation had attacked Convoy Martian Vengeance. In twelve hours, it would be their turn, and Sheila Broadstroke hoped her ship would be ready. She didn’t want to think about the shortcuts the engineering department had taken removing the damaged fusion bottle and installing a new one. Regardless, as an Improved-Owl Mod Two, Hymenator was probably the best ship in the task force to lead the attack. She was the stealthiest of the five ships and had the fire control necessary to handle the targeting required.

Broadstroke asked, “Any change in the convoy’s deployment, Blake?”

The XO, Blake Cullins, shook his head. “Same as before, Skipper.”

“Then the attack plan stays the same.”

Following the attack by Task Force Devastation, the task force has dispersed. Rather than move far away and turn towards home, the five I-Owls had trailed the convoy towards Mars, reporting back to Mars on the restructured layout of the convoy. WestHem had maintained the spherical structure, with the transports and support vessels inside, with a heavy shell of the remaining Californias and Seattles surrounding it. There was still a spike of Owls pointed towards Mars, and they were still flying a heavy screen of fighters around the convoy.

“Any indication they are expecting us?” asked Broadstroke.

“No, and no indication they aren’t expecting us. Their operating pattern is the same as before.”

Broadstroke had to think about what would happen next. Missile defense was purely a numbers game. Of the one-hundred-forty-five torpedoes launched by Task Force Devastation, forty-three out of one-hundred-forty-four ships were killed. That was thirty percent of the targets. Another way of looking at it was that it took three-and-a-third torpedoes to kill a single ship.

Task Force Destruction consisted of three I-Seattles, with twenty-four torpedoes each, a single I-Owl Mod Two, with twenty-nine torpedoes, and the battlecruiser Wilmer, with twelve six-torpedo Mod Two pods totaling seventy-two torpedoes. That added up to one-hundred-seventy-three torpedoes. Divided by three-and-a-third torpedoes per kill, that worked out to fifty-one ships killed in the next battle.

Forty-eight Californias IIs and thirty-six Seattle IIs added up to eighty-four original escorts. With forty-three dead, that left forty-one escorts. By the strict mathematical calculations, that meant Task Force Destruction would kill the remaining escorts and go on to kill another eight Panamas or supply ships. The one thing Sheila Broadstroke knew, however, was that nothing about combat was pure mathematics. The overwhelming law of warfare was Murphy’s Law. ‘Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.’ Put more simply, shit happens.

Destruction took up a ring formation just like Devastation did, with the five attacking vessels arranged around the central spike of the WestHem Owls. As they got closer to Mars, the distance between the Earthling Owls had decreased, shortening the spike, and making it thicker. That forced the five-ship ring farther apart. Broadstroke spread the three Seattles on an arc above the ecliptic, with orders to launch their torpedoes and drones on command, and then depart the area. They were not to stick around and trail the invasion fleet. Seattles, even Improved-Seattles, were less stealthy than the Martian Improved-Owls.

The remaining two attacking vessels were Hymenator and Stacy Wilmer. Broadstroke ordered them below the ecliptic. They would launch their torpedoes and pods at the same time the I-Seattles did, but with one significant difference. Harbaugh was ordered to move Wilmer away from Task Force Vengeance, just like the I-Seattles. Wilmer was roughly as stealthy as the anti-stealth ships. Only Hymenator was an Improved-Owl, and she needed to stay in place to coordinate and control the massive number of torpedoes launched by the five ships.

When the Mod Two torpedo package was developed, the Improved-Owls were given an improved fire control system, allowing them to guide all twenty-nine torpedoes in flight. Wilmer had a similar system, but it had never been tested in combat, and trying to control seventy-two torpedoes would have lowered its stealth profile. Instead, Hymenator was going to try something different. She was going to switch between groups of torpedoes, jumping from one group of twenty-nine to a different group, bouncing around from torpedo to torpedo and working through the stealthed drones.

Just like in the Devastation attack, the five ships launched their torpedoes and pods at the same time. Cockblocker, Clitlicker, Hardon, and Stacy Wilmer all began moving away from the convoy at that time. Hymenator, however, would stay in position, using her advanced stealth capabilities to hide while her immense supercomputing capacity guided the torpedoes homing in on the convoy.

With any luck, it just might work.

Admiral’s Bridge

WHSS Alabama, Earth - Mars Transit

Friday, February 7, 2155

Vice Admiral John Hobart was looking at the holo tank when his anti-ship coordinator spoke up. “Admiral, we have more torpedoes coming in!”

Hobart turned and stared at the man. “More torpedoes? Where the fuck are they coming from?”

“No idea, sir. Intelligence is speculating it’s from the Martian Seattles but the numbers don’t add up. It’s more than twice that possible number,” replied Captain William Randolph.

“Oh, shit! Maryland is gone!” sang out from one of the officers manning the consoles.

Hobart’s mind was reeling. Maryland was Fleet Admiral Roswell’s flagship. Second in command was originally Admiral Homer Wilson, but his flagship had been Wyoming, a California II killed during the first attack. He had an odd feeling that the next commander of Martian Vengeance would be whichever admiral on a California was still alive at the end of the attack. “Where are they attacking from? Do we have any signatures out there?”

A junior officer spoke up. “Maybe. We are getting signatures of Owls leaving the area on these vectors.” Bright red lines appeared in the holo tank. They appeared to be emanating from a central point. “There might also be a signature somewhere in this central point.”

“I want F-22s on each of those vectors, and on that central location.”

“Roger that, sir.” Captain Randolph turned to the flag bridge crew and gave the appropriate orders.

Another officer yelled out, “Incoming multiple torpedoes!”

Hobart watched as the bright red dots in the holo tank approached. The WestHem Navy had done the same calculations as the Martian Navy. On average, it would take three-and-a-third torpedoes to kill any particular ship. It was just too bad that five torpedoes were approaching.

Bridge

MSS Hymenator, Mars - Earth Transit

Friday, February 7, 2155

It was obvious that the WestHem navy was totally confused by the second attack. They had been making all the appropriate moves, by consolidating their escorts into a single sphere, and continuing the radar and sensor sweeps of the immediate area. Their remaining F-22s were responding to anything they could see or thought they could see. Still, it wasn’t enough. Over the course of ten minutes, ship after ship, escort after escort went up in a two-hundred megaton cloud of thermonuclear plasma. Sheila Broadstroke didn’t understand what Admiral Belting was up to, but with the number of torpedoes launched, she could have hollowed out the invading sphere, destroying the transport fleet and killing the Marines who planned to assault Mars.

The defenders were fighting back as best they could. Despite the onslaught of torpedoes, the California IIs and Seattle IIs fought back destroying one torpedo after another. Their F-22s were zipping towards possible targets even as their base ships were destroyed behind them. No matter how many survived, in twenty-four hours they would need to dock or be rescued - or they would die from lack of oxygen.

“Somebody over there has figured out how we’re doing this. They’re going after the drones,” said Blake.

“You can’t count on the enemy just letting you kill them. They’re bound to get pissy about it sooner or later.”, said Sheila Broadstroke.

“Yeah, well they’re about to get pissy about it with us. There’s at least a flight of F-22s heading towards each drone.”

The task force commander nodded. “Go active on the torpedoes and cut them loose, then power up the drones. Make them chase them away from us. See what they think about that.”

Two minutes later, her Exec said, “They’re still chasing them, but there’s a flight closing on us. It looks like they’re chasing the drone we were relaying through.”

“Some people just can’t take a joke. Send that drone away from us at maximum acceleration and put us on a minimum acceleration course in the opposite direction.”