Coming Home Free Fleet 2
Coming Home Free Fleet 2
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Salchar and the Free Fleet are tired, low on resources, man power and ships that should actually be flying. Yet they have a mandate, free those that are being oppressed.
Sarenmenti, Humans, Kuruvians, Chaleelians and the genetic creations of the AI called the Planner, Avarians, band together under the banner of the Free Fleet to go to the fleet’s birthplace-Earth.
Life is nothing but a battle for a survival, and Salchar is going to have to use all of his skills to keep his people alive.
The galaxy has a few surprises to throw his way, as well as some polticians up to their own games.
Salchar is going to wish for battles instead of dealing with the twisted minds of politicians and a people that think they are still the centre of the universe.
Excerpt from Coming Home
Chapter Back to Sol
For the next few hours, everything was a rush as I made my way onto the bridge. The wormhole generators were in the final hours of charging.
“Alright, run final checks on all systems and everyone to check their positioning,” I broadcasted to every ship Commander as the one-hour mark approached.
Captains across the fleet ran the checks, greening up when they were ready.
Twenty minutes to go, and every ship had run their final tests.
“Bring everyone to pre-jump readiness,” I said to Rick, who nodded, making sure everyone was ready.
I felt the now familiar hum of the wormhole generators as they finished charging, the counter hit zero, and the fleet created a mass wormhole.
“Engaging worm jump!” Helm called out as we orbited the event horizon, all of the ships lining off of Resilient as we neared the peak.
“Changed over to Sol System chart,” Sensors said as the map shifted and the shields waited to change over from adjusting to the magnetic forces from Chaleel System to Sol’s for optimum output.
Helm guided us past the event horizon. There was a feeling of nothing.
“Configuring shields,” Shields said as they changed from Chaleel’s presets to a slightly modulated version of the presupposed positioning of the planets, sun, and ourselves. At this point we were at our most vulnerable. We had limited to no shields and didn’t have any sensor readings.
“Sensors, remember non-active systems! We don’t want them pinging us,” I said in a tone which carried as Sensors worked through the limited information each ship was receiving through their passive sensors.
“Shields modulated,” Shields said as Sensors updated the plot with the planets that the shield operators had to compensate for.
Helm and Navigation coordinated with the other ships to make sure that they stayed in formation by using just their maneuvering thrusters. The initial velocity we had entering the wormhole, was now cut off as we cruised in-system.
“Release them,” I said. The combined arms officer knew what I meant as they talked into their microphone.
“Phase one is good, no failures,” the sensors officer said, meaning that there was nothing in immediate weapons range. He remained focused however, not even turning around as I relaxed minutely, still watching the basic plot of Sol System as it filled with data, much slower than when we used our high powered sensor arrays. If we had used them, the enemy would’ve seen us as fast as we’d see them, even when we were coming from the furthest out jump point possible.
I looked to the two eclipse ships. They looked like damned big freighters, much like the ones that were carrying recruits to Parnmal.
The only major differences were ports that went diagonally through the freighter’s cargo areas for fighters. No real offensive weaponry other than light cannons and a half dozen missile ports. Though it was covered in the newly developed Personal Defence Systems or PDS.
Felix had looked at the current laborious PDS and in a strongly worded memo expressed their absolute stupidity. They could hit a dime five million kilometers off, but it took them an impossible amount of time to get on target. They had limited arcs due to their bulky design, took up a ton of power and were, in Felix’s mind, “Complete and utter fucking garbage, I now see why people need so few missiles.” His exact words. So he’d gone and taken the tracking and aiming system and upgraded it with Resilient in the time we were in Parnmal. He hadn’t completed the new system until a few weeks ago, but it was so simple he’d been able to cover the Eclipse freighters with them.
They were essentially up scaled Gatling guns that shot a seventy-five caliber round with a highly advanced targeting system.
Being the Defence for the fleet wasn’t these freighters primary role, no, their primary role was to carry the seven wings of ten fighters into battle.
The fighters had stretched their legs as we had travelled, most of the fleet trying to catch a glimpse at the fighters who were elegant and precise with their movements. Rick told me applicants to be fighter pilots had sky rocketed.
I focused on the main screen. Now it’s time to see if it’ll be enough.
Bit by bit the map filled with information until all that was left was what was in Earth’s orbit.
“Picking up a structure with massive power output,” came from the sensor pit.
“I believe I have an orbital station, size, five kilometers long. It is hexagonal, belling out a third of the way down before belling down again, thinner than the other side of the station and still mostly scaffolding for the station to grow on. There’s two factory ships at each end and another two on either side of the protrusion. It looks like they’re attached to the structure,” the voice continued as the structure filled the plot
“Well, it looks like we’re looking at our training facility,” I said as more than one pair of hard eyes stared at what had once been our prison.
“I have confirmed weapons signatures, it’s also got weaponry batteries,” the sensor Commander said after checking another operator’s screen.
“Control the orbitals, you control the population,” someone said through gritted teeth from the pits, getting annoyed grunts in return, the most violent from the Sarenmenti and Kuruvians who both believed in fair fights.
“Ship readings!” a sensor operator yelled and everything became business again. I checked the status of the Mechas that I’d put on thirty percent readiness.
“Reading a Battle cruiser, make that two, three destroyers, eight cruisers and four corvettes,” the chief said as other operators added their findings.
“I have another battle cruiser.”
“Two more destroyers.”
“Three more corvettes.”
“Keep scanning, I want to know if there’s anything else lurking out there,” I said as the sensors officer began compiling all of the data from every ship, organizing it and then funneling it back out. It was mostly automated, but he was there to make sure there weren’t any overlap or issues.
So far we had three battle cruisers, five destroyers, eight cruisers, twelve corvettes and an incomplete training station.
“What’s the situation like on the ground,” I asked. I didn’t want to know, but I had to. It took a few minutes before anything concrete came back.
“Crater readings over southern Japan, the United states, Russia, Europe’s mostly gone, China’s no more. Water levels have risen three feet, massive flooding on every land mass.” The sensor Commander’s voice was dull and flat, professional. It was the only way they could get across what they were saying, obvious emotion hidden behind their words. The bridge was silent as we glided into the system.
Even the Kuruvians and Sarenmenti were quiet, no doubt thinking on the state of their own planets.
“The time for remorse will be later, for now we have a mission to complete and our home world to rescue,” I said. I left behind my emotions and became Salchar, the Commander of the Free Fleet.
I looked at the clock on my view screen. It was set to a thirty-nine-hour day, what the Union had used as a general time which our bodies naturally adjusted to without time keeping. They’ll be getting their instructions now, I thought as I sat on my bridge in my Mecha, wishing I could be with my men hurtling towards the enemy.
Henry couldn’t help but grumble good-naturally about the oncoming battle.
About to go into battle against a heavily outnumbered enemy, check. Flying towards them like idiots, check. Got the best job in the universe…. well, the food could be better, Henry mused as he grinned. No matter how much he complained about the uncomfortable ride, or the fact that his padding was gone in all the wrong places, or that he wishes he went to the bathroom, it was all for show. He lived for this, for charging the enemy. He would’ve gone into hell if James told him, strapped naked to a rocket.
Which I pretty much did when we took Parnmal, he thought, shaking his head as he looked to his fellow Commandos.
Each were complaining about something or, what would seem as outrageous to anyone not in the military, playing games, sleeping or watching TV.
Salchar had okayed hacking a satellite to get all current information on the Syndicates and Earth’s activities. With all of that information came television and movies that none of the Commandos had seen from some kind soul who had routed to the shuttles via tight beam laser.
Currently, there were a group of Commandos of every race watching a projected version of an action movie made with all of the action stars basically just blowing shit up.
Henry grinned as one of the younger humans, about fourteen, tried to impress the great value and battle worthiness of Chuck Norris, with such choice phrases as: a snake bit Chuck Norris and after three days of excruciating pain, the snake died. The humans laughed as the rest asked what a snake was.
The look on the kids face as he tried to explain it was priceless.
He was saved by Salchar, who came through every HUD, data pad, and earpiece.
“This is Commander Salchar, I know that over the last year and half we’ve gone through a rough and terrible journey, but today we’ll claim back some of what was taken from us. As you all hurtle towards the enemy like the maniacs you truly are.” James grinned in a way that acknowledge that he and they were in the same club of maniacs, which drew whoops from the troops in the hold along with Henry who grinned himself.
“The fleet is going to come in behind you. We’ll breach the vessels of the Syndicate, allowing you to board their vessels. You need to take them apart; I don’t care if you eject their cores or rip out their engines; I want those ships dead. For those of you that will hit the station, there are orbitals attached to the station. Taking those out is your top priority. The fleet, once we fire on the Syndicate vessels, will hold around Earth. Once your shuttles have dropped you off, they’ll pick up the second wave and land us on the station to assist in clean-up.”
“Don’t kill the personnel of the Syndicate ships if you can help it, but this is our planet here, so if they aren’t cooperating, deadly force is authorized. We will have a full communications push as we go live. The lives of Earth and of this fleet are in your hands Marines, now show me what Armored Marine Commandos can do!” Cheers rose again from the throats of the men around him, hungry and deadly cheers that sounded more like the baying of wolves for blood than a noise that came from a human, Sarenmenti, Avarian or Kuruvian’s mouth. As for the rest of them, their videos stopped and Henry’s kept going.
“To the shuttle wing Commanders, CAMC, and battalion Commanders; you will have to organize on the move who is to take Big Bertha and who are to take the supporting forces. I leave it up to your discretion, good luck and I’ll see you all on the other side.” James gave a solemn two finger salute as the video ended and Henry continued towards Earth. Salchar had kept his message slightly cryptic, he didn’t want to say the station and the ships. Even sending the message was a risk, but he wasn’t going to send out his people without letting them know he cared for them, and understood what he was sending them into.
“So you were explaining what a snake was Kalinsky?” Henry prompted. The kid sighed, eventually someone showing mercy on him and explaining what a snake was as Henry watched, grinning and popping a piece of gum in his mouth. The gum that the gun deck was pumping out was better than any cigarette he’d ever had, and it didn’t give him the added issue of having to get his system cleaned by medical on a regular basis.
It was the small things Henry reflected as he looked around the shuttle, quite a few of them would die far from home, some just before they could set foot on it.