HMSS Broadside DAY 322 : Choke Hold Finale Part 1

2 hours ago

5 min read

Flux Season 1 Finale Part 1

Personal Journal — Serene Falk

Captain, HMSS Broadside

Mission Parameter: Hunting Ghosts

Classification: SECRET — Captain’s Eyes Only

It is always surprising how adrenaline and constant repetition can change the way a ship responds. Because in its simplest form a warship is a union of humanity and machine. Both attempting to operate in the closest harmony possible.

And the Broadside was proving that point as Flight announced our Battle station status, a full eleven seconds faster than our previous average. Eleven seconds might not sound like much. But in combat, eleven seconds is the difference between life and death.

As the first strike is usually the hardest and it is best delivered when your enemy is not expecting it.

But the Broadside was ready.

Only as the Broadside wheeled away from the Hood with her engines screaming. And although we were prepared.

I had a problem.

Because I was the only person who had seen behind the Hood’s convincing illusion of normality. I was the only person who knew with absolute certainty that we were not fighting our own people.

It was true, the rest of my crew had now seen the evidence, when the Hood had gone weapons-hot. But would that be enough for them to fire upon one of our own ships under my orders?

As the two great ships started the dance.

Flight moved us through a succession of combat patterns, attempting to out manoeuvre the Hood.

And as each pattern and counter pattern were seamlessly applied we were bodily thrown us against our gravity restraints. Across the bridge, it was easy to tell the white faced recruits as they clung for dear life to their seats. Some had their eyes closed against the G force turns, some where silently praying. Whilst those like me that had seen this all before, were counting patterns.

“Flight, how many patterns in are we?”

The ship shuddered through another violent course change.

“That was number seven, Captain.”

Which meant we were approaching the active-fire threshold.

Or in layman’s terms, when the firing started.

Why Seven ?

Years of experience has taught us and the fleet that there is only one reason the active fire threshold is crossed. A change in the status quo between the two opposing forces. As a change indicates an opportunity, and an opportunity gives you an advantage. And any advantage, regardless of how slim it is can make the difference.

And by Seven patterns deep, someone had either made a tactical error or they were running out resource. Which prompted a random response.

Because combat is nothing like you see in the movies.

Most engagements are about patience and positioning yourself, your troops or your ship where you have the greatest advantage.

And out here in the deep black, that principle was gospel.

Because out here there is no supply chain, or refit station.

And victory might ultimately depend upon how many munitions a ship had left in its armoury or how much energy it could still expend.

But both were finite.

Out here, you conserved your ammunition.

You conserved your power.

And you waited.

As the Broadside lurched sideways again, I reached for a phrase from history, one I had used many times before to reinforce that point.

“Put your trust in God, my boys and keep your powder dry.”

To which the bridge crew answered as one.

"Aye Captain"

Looking towards Weps I silently mouthed two words.

Get ready.

To my surprise, I received a curt nod and a smile from a Martian.

That was a first.

I was still smiling at the thought of a Martian displaying any kind of emotion when the status quo shattered like a cocktail glass striking a tiled floor.

Alarms erupted across the bridge.

Flight’s voice cut through them.

“Captain, another ship has just dropped into Standard Space two hundred and fifty kilometres off our stern.”

Every eye turned towards Flight.

“Is it transmitting a SID?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Flight studied the ship identification data.

“According to the encrypted signal, it’s…”

The officer hesitated.

“It’s the Exeter.”

Before I could respond, Weps interrupted.

“And she’s coming in weapons-hot, Captain.”

Two ships.

Working together.

It was the classic fore-and-aft choke hold.

If completed, the manoeuvre would allow the Hood and Exeter to destroy our primary weapons and engines in a single coordinated strike.

Then things would become truly unpleasant.

They could take their time pulling us apart with their rail guns.

Or they could board us.

I slammed my fist against the console, furious with myself for failing to see the obvious trap.

“That’s why the Hood has been playing peekaboo with us. She was waiting for the Exeter to flank us.”

Experience told me we had less than two minutes to break the choke hold.

That was how long the Exeter would need to reach the optimum firing position and neatly castrate the Broadside.

“Options, people.”

I looked around the bridge.

“And I need them now.”

As a rule, unlike some crews I have encountered. The crew of the Broadside for whatever reason, have always felt at liberty to speak their minds and never hold back when asked a question.

But this time, the bridge remained silent.

That silence a testament to the reality of our situation.

As a properly executed choke hold was almost impossible to escape. If you played it by the book.

Then the answer had to be off-book.

Somewhere beyond the pages of the Fleet Manual.

“Come on. Let’s get creative.”

Gunny, one of the Weps team, spoke hesitantly.

“Captain, didn’t the Exeter just enter through an un-mapped singularity?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t we leave through the same one?”

“Gunny, I could kiss you.”

Several heads turned.

“Let’s work the problem, people. Get us out of this choke.”

Within thirty seconds, Flight had programmed X-ray Four Theta. An off-book combat pattern named after my predecessor Dawn Parker and aptly named Parker’s Pirouette.

We had never found a practical use for this pattern as it was pure ballet.

But that was precisely why it might work.

No one would recognise it, as it only ever existed on the Broadside amongst Dawn Parker’s personal records.

According to Flight, its final exit vector would take us behind the incoming Exeter and directly into the singularity through which she had arrived.

Assuming we were not shot to pieces in the process.

Still locked into our seats, we believed we had already experienced the worst roller coaster ride the Broadside could inflict upon us.

We were wrong.

And as the fusion drives thundered to full power.

Parker’s Pirouette flipped the Broadside through one hundred and eighty degrees horizontally. Then she rolled forty-five degrees vertically, placing us into a perfect backward arc over the Exeter.

As a backdrop the Singularity Generator began to rumble.

Its deep vibration travelling through the ship as it formed the transit bubble we would need to cross the singularity.

Then the impact alarms flared.

Weps spoke the words no captain ever wants to hear.

“Incoming, Captain.”

The tactical display filled with hostile contacts.

“Multiple bogies.”

“Contact, Contact”