Part 53: Big Damn Ending, Sol System, Sol Sector (Story)
I'd never actually tried a Sabre for that mission - I mean why would you do escort in a Sabre when a Rapier was available - so I had a go this afternoon in between transcribing Reismann's rather wordy final briefing.Turns out that the Sabre's got a unique missile loadout (for that mission only) which does not have any torpedoes in it. Well, that certainly explains why they didn't attempt to finish off any of the frigates at the end of the previous video. It also pretty much removes any reason to fly the Sabre at all though.
Anyway, on with the story...
1st January 2669, Sol System, Sol Sector
Episode 5, Mission 7 - Big Damn Ending
The marine raids were a huge success, achieving near-complete surprise as Thrakhath failed to recognise the nature of the threat they posed:
Fleet Action posted:
"My lord, there are significantly more ships than intelligence indicated."
Thrakhath looked back at the main screen and ordered the forward picket ships to send back enhanced optical scan. He waited for the visuals to be returned, watching the display of the two fleets being deployed. More and more blips of enemy ships were appearing, moving out from behind other ships which had been masking them. He had his suspicions as to what the new ships were and did not feel overly worried. One of the advantages of having had an embassy team on Earth was the ability to conduct reconnaissance. It was made even better by the fact that their own Foreign Minister had become a traitor. Too bad she was under arrest.
"They're civilian ships, my lord. Numerous light craft, personal ships, light business ships of corvette size, shuttle craft, and civilian interplanetary transports."
Thrakhath nodded.
"They're throwing everything in as a screen to waste our weapons on. Order the outer wave of fighters to ignore them and to concentrate on the incoming Broadswords and Sabres. Once their offensive capability has been smashed we can turn our attention to this chaff they throw out and destroy them."
"We're also detecting Marine assault and landing ships, my lord."
Thrakhath stirred, ordering that this new sighting be highlighted on the main display. Several hundred of the blips started to blink bright yellow. What were they up to?
"A diversionary effort, my lord?"
He looked over at his chief tactical officer.
He still had over seventeen hundred fighters at his disposal, almost all of them already launched and moving towards position. The first offensive strike wave was already committed, four hundred strike craft moving out past the outer line of picket ships with four eights of corvettes and light frigates in escort. Long range Confederation patrols were already moving to intercept, a pitiful six eights of fighters.
He was holding back over a thousand craft, assuming a more defensive posture than in the last battle. One of his carriers was gone, another slightly damaged. He would absorb and totally destroy the offensive strike, eliminating the final threat. Then he would smash through with a totally annihilating second strike, smashing whatever was left of the enemy fleet. They could no longer retreat and regroup; they would have to stand and die.
But the Marines? What were they for? To draw fire, obviously, while the last of the Broadswords went in.
"Still concentrate on the Broadswords," he said. Then we slaughter the rest."
Which is not to say that the Marines have it easy (also, somehow I avoided realising just how stereotyped every single marine officer in End Run and Fleet Action is until relatively recently):
Fleet Action posted:
Kevin weaved his way through the melee, moving up to protect an assault wave of twenty Marine landing craft, a full brigade of troops packed inside. They were breaking through. A Kilrathi destroyer was moving in towards the group and he saw three of the landing craft turn towards the destroyer. The destroyers defensive batteries nailed two. The third closed in, letting loose with its ground bombardment armaments which leaped across space, exploding across the bow of the enemy ship. The rounds were designed for area suppression, not shield and hull penetration, but they nevertheless blinded the ship. The landing craft swung across the top side of the destroyer, matching speed and then slammed down on its main cargo hatch. Explosive shape charges mounted to the bottom of the landing craft detonated, blowing the destroyers main access hatch open. The landing craft edged forward, gaming magnetic lock on the destroyer's hull. No matter what the ship now did as evasive, the Marine assault craft was glued to its side like a lamprey eel on the side of a fish - and it was just as deadly.
The seventeen assault ships ahead pressed in, Kevin now riding herd above them. He tried to ignore everything else: the hundreds of ships fighting and dying around him, the total chaos, as all tactical formations were lost. Kilrathi fighters, now fully committed to this new threat, swarmed in, space so thick with them that he witnessed half a dozen collisions between turning fighters, their own ships, and Confederation craft.
Five of the Marine ships disappeared, a full battalion of five hundred men winking out of existence. In any other situation their loss would have been viewed as a disaster. Here, with the final desperate defense of Earth, it was the mere incident of a second's time. Three Jalthi turned in on the group, ignoring Kevin. He slashed two out of existence, while the third took out three landing craft and then broke hard down and to the left, disappearing.
The Marine craft pressed on in, dodging past a lumbering cruiser, with the lead landing craft pushing up and over.
"Come on, take it, just take it before you're all killed," Kevin thought,wanting to scream at the assault unit's commander. The cruiser fell astern, taking out three more craft as they shot past, with a mass driver burst shutting down his own aft shields and slicing deep into his armor. Six craft were left and then he saw the target straight ahead as he looked up after dispatching yet another fighter - a Kilrathi heavy carrier turning in evasive.
The carrier, with a mix of twenty civilian and assault ships behind it, was going through a slow, ponderous turn, its aft, top, and bottom batteries all engaged, slaughtering their pursuers. Within seconds the twenty ships were gone. They were racing straight in on the carrier. The six craft he was escorting opened fire, sixty area suppression bombardment missiles blanketing the ship's bow.
"Fighter following me, we're going for their topside forward bay, match speed and give us suppressive!"
Startled, Kevin looked at his comm screen. It was Duke Grecko on a laser link line.
The order was insane and yet he followed it. He leaped ahead of the six landing craft, even as two more of them exploded, then slammed in reverse thrusters, coming to a dead stop fifty meters in front of the launch bay. Kevin toggled through every weapon he still had, dumping out IFFs, dumb fire and then mass drivers. The spread exploded across the airlock bay, which shimmered and glowed red, part of the concentrated blast kicking through the shielding, blowing apart a mass driver turret above the bay. Two landing craft came streaking past and headed in. An explosion rocked his ship, spinning it over in a cartwheeling pivot away from the carrier. A quick scan of his instruments told him the worst and he reached down between his legs, grabbed hold of the ejector ring, and pulled.
"Switch IFF transponders now!" Grecko roared. The pilot flipped the switch to the preprogrammed Kilrathi IFF, which intelligence claimed would get them through the airlock if they activated it at the last second before the deck officer could toggle the channel to a different frequency. He closed his eyes as they hit the field. If intelligence was off, the landing craft would not be able to handle the head-on collision and would vaporize on the shield.
An explosion rocked the ship and he was slammed forward by a jarring blow. He opened his eyes. They were skidding down the length of the flight deck, the Kilrathi launch crew scattering in every direction.
"Blow rear hatch!"
The rear hatch swung open even as the landing craft continued to skid down the deck in a shower of sparks. Duke, unbuckled from his jump seat, stood up clenching a laser gun and started for the rear.
"Let's kick ass!" he roared.
The final phase of the battlefleet action of the Battle for Earth is now underway - the clash between the sole surviving Kilrathi supercarrier, the KIS Craxtha, and what's left of Third Fleet, including the carriers Concordia and Ark Royal. The Firekka-Grunwald group naturally enough sends its fighters in after the Hakaga.
Pre-mission cutscenes:
Cougar joins in with the being convinced he's going to die. Bradshaw suggests he snap out of it with all the care and consideration we've come to expect from the Firekka's wingleader.
Cutscene Video (Youtube)
: Ready to go, Cougar?
: Always, sir. But, sir, can I ask you a favour?: Of course. What do you need?: Sir, if we win, can you tell my wife, ah, you know, just tell her what happened to me. : Don't be ridiculous, Cougar. When we win, you'll be there to celebrate with the rest of us. : Now hurry up. Reismann is waiting for us.
Apparently we had some time to reply to Squealer during the recent engagements, and he's written back:
IES Message - Received at 1137 hours GST on 2669.001 posted:
From: 1st Lt. Jason Beverly (TCSF, TCS Firekka)
To: Capt. William Bradshaw (TCSF, TCS Firekka)
Subject: Re: Re: Shit...
Thanks for the pep talk, partner. Course, I know you were bullshitting, I've seen how worried you've been. You didn't expect to make it no more than I did.
Well then. Oddly enough, we're... still... alive. Here's hoping we get through this next one. If all goes well, in about four hours I'm gonna be completely, utterly drunk. Oh, yeah...
Squealer
> Damn it, have all of you gone suicidal all of a sudden? Hey,
> seriously... look, yeah, we're in for a lot of shit, but
> really, how much worse can it be than Sirius?
>
> As for your jail sentence... I actually talked about that a
> few days ago with Reismann. He says Confed's going to amnesty
> everyone that's taken part in the battle. Not just you
> Guadalcanal folks, but everyone that's helped - I hear that
> back in Gemini, there's a regular pirate squadron patrolling
> the border while the fleet's away. Can ya imagine, merchants
> getting escort from pirates?
>
> So you don't need to worry about jail. Hell, what kind of sick
> bastards would we have to be, getting you shot at fifty million
> times a day for a week, and then putting you back in jail to
> serve your sentence?
>
>
>
> Bradshaw
And for the final battle, the Firekka is still hilariously overcapacity:
IES Message - Received at 1203 hours GST on 2669.001 posted:
From: Chief Petty Officer Jean Henderson (TCN, TCS Firekka)
To: Capt. William Bradshaw (TCSF, TCS Firekka)
Subject: Latest flight deck status
Hey, Captain B.
All done with the latest round of repairs. Listen, since this is gonna be the big final action, I tore out the jump drive from your Sabre, and crammed in a small extra fuel tank. Not much, but it might make a difference out there.
You kick the cats straight back to Kilrah, will ya? And you'd better come back alive, you still owe me an apology for that Cougar thing!
Rapiers: 17
Sabres: 23
Crossbows: 3
Stilettos: None.
Gladii: 11
Jean
Mission update to follow when it's ready, hopefully tomorrow but given I've only made one attempt at it so far, probably not. Unless this mission is a lot easier than it looks. I have most of the other bits in place.
Oh, and while I'm here/you're waiting, check out this rather cool orchestral rearrangement of some of the WC1/2 music.
edit: actually, this mission is a lot harder than it looks/I remember. Fuck you, Thrakhath.