squad.
Dreadnoughts and Hammer missiles closed on each other, and again the space between them filled with the flares of dying missiles hacked out of the attack by the dreadnoughts' medium-range defenses. The missiles that survived plunged into the hulls of the ships, warheads packed with chemical explosive lancing through what little armor remained to reach deep down into the guts of the ships, searching for the vulnerable fusion plants.
But the two dreadnoughts' fusion plants had been shut down, the vast residual energy in their containment vessels blown out into space in long jets of white-hot ionized gas. The missiles tore at the carcasses of the ships, blowing debris off their frames and out into space, a shambolic mass of scrap tumbling toward Commitment. Now it was Redress's turn to suffer, her hull shaking while her short-range defenses worked frantically to keep out the few Goshawk missiles that had made it past the combined defenses of the three dreadnoughts, space filling with the violent flares of missile fusion plants as they died.
A few penetrated the dreadnought's defenses; Redwood trembled when three Goshawks plunged into her hull, their warheads wasted on armor untouched by the first missile salvo.
When the attack petered out, Michael entertained a fleeting touch of sympathy for the Hammer commander. Gladiator had to be the stuff of his worst nightmares. This was an attack like nothing the man had ever faced. Ironically, the more successful his missiles were, the worse his problems became, with the dreadnoughts disintegrating into thousands and thousands of pieces, the larger fragments indistinguishable from missiles.
Not that the Hammer commander gave up trying.
'Command, Warfare, sensors. Multiple missile launches from McNair missile defense system. Estimate 940 Goshawk ABM missiles plus decoys. Salvo designated Golf-3. Time of flight 40 seconds.'
'Command, roger.' This was it; Michael's hands tightened their grip on the arms of his seat, sweat pooling ice- cold at the base of his spine. 'Confirm own missile status.'
'Missile losses 26 percent. Remainder will start terminal phase deceleration in 38 seconds. Dreadnoughts on vectors for Gwalia, Perkins, and Yallan Planetary Ground Defense Force bases.'
'Roger,' Michael said, pushing away a wonderful image of the dreadnoughts-not to mention hundreds of Merlin missiles-plowing into the three Hammer bases that protected the city of McNair, thousands of tons of unstoppable mass moving at terrible speed.
The Hammers' last Goshawk salvo smashed into Red River and Redress. The bleeding carcasses of the dreadnoughts reeled from the furious assault. Missile after missile slipped past shock-damaged defenses, blasting huge chunks of armored hull off titanium frames to tumble away into space. Again the few missiles to survive clawed their way across space to Redwood, and again they died, their warheads wasted.
Michael watched the number of uncommitted ABMs run down until it reached zero. The attack was over. The shattered remnants of his sacrificial ships were seconds away from reentry. He might hate the idea of leaving the safety and security of Redwood's bulk and armor, but he knew he had no choice. Soon, the doomed dreadnought would be a flaming mass, plunging earthward to its death. It was time to go to work. He commed Sedova and Acharya; their faces were painted with fear, stress, and anticipation. 'All set?'
The heavy lander pilots nodded. 'Yes, sir,' Sedova said. 'Can't say I've enjoyed the last few minutes, so it'll be good to get into it.'
Michael had to agree. 'We'll be executing phase Alfa-6 on schedule, so good luck. See you all on the other side. Command, out.'
Michael commed Kallewi. 'You copy that?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Don't have to ask if the green machine is ready, do I?'
'No, sir. Foaming at the mouth, they are,' Kallewi said. 'The Hammers won't know what hit them.'
Michael watched the seconds run off; he gave the order. 'Alley Kat, Hell Bent, this is Widowmaker. Immediate execute Alfa-6. Stand by… execute!'
A great many things happened in a short space of time.
Cut loose by small explosive charges around their frames, Warfare jettisoned Redwood's huge armored hangar doors-'Why waste good mass?' Ferreira had said. 'They'll make good decoys.'-to tumble into space, pushed away by the force of Redwood's atmosphere. They were followed quickly by every lifepod, their distress beacons squawking useless cries for help. An instant later, Red River and Redress followed suit.
The instant the hangar doors cleared the ships, the landers fired their main engines in a short, sharp burst of pure energy that shot them out of the hangar. Turning hard, the landers went to emergency power, Widowmaker shuddering as its artificial gravity struggled to compensate for the sudden deceleration. The instant the landers were clear, Warfare fired the explosive charges laid out across the hangar deck, smashing the carefully assembled piles of scrap out into space around the dreadnoughts. All three dreadnoughts drove on hard, surrounded by a whirling maelstrom of broken metal and lifepods, thousands and thousands of pieces of radar-reflective scrap. Michael was glad he would not be there when all that mass arrived dirtside. One thing was for sure: If the Hammer commander had not been confused thus far, he would be now with all that metal-part of which was the battered but still intact Redwood-now plunging earthward.
'Command, tac.' Ferreira's voice was laconic, matter-of-fact. 'Stand by… lander speed nominal for reentry.'
'Command, roger. Turning onto new vector.' Mother shut down the main engines, spinning the lander up and around until its nose was aligned for reentry. Michael sighed; much as he wanted to hand-fly the mission, he had better things to do than piloting Widowmaker's headlong plunge back to Commitment's surface. 'Command, Warfare. Initiating final missile engine burn.'
'Command, roger.' A quick check of the holovids confirmed Warfare's report. The enormous swarm of Merlin antistarship missiles-ASSMs-had kept station on the dreadnoughts while they decelerated in toward Commitment. Now they rode down tail first on thin needles of white fire, slowing to allow their warheads to survive reentry.
'Missiles at reentry speed. Stand by warhead deployment… warheads deployed… warheads confirmed nominal, vectors nominal for reentry.'
'Command, roger,' Michael said. The Hammers must be struggling to work out what amid all of that metal hurtling in their direction they should worry about. More than a thousand of the dreadnoughts' missiles had survived the three Hammer missile attacks; now the salvo had doubled in size.
'Command, Warfare. Red River and Redress reentry imminent.'
'Roger.' Michael put the feed from the lander's external holocams up on one of the holovids. Many kilometers ahead, the sky over the Hammer capital burst into an extravagant display of red, yellow, and gold flares, some gone no sooner than they had appeared, the larger fragments along with the battered remnants of Red River and Redress, now two huge balls of fire stabbing trails of flame down into Commitment's atmosphere before they disappeared into the storm raging across McNair.
'Oh, yes,' Michael hissed softly, entranced by the sight. Seconds later, Redwood followed her sisters into oblivion. She, too, died a warrior's death, driving a blazing stake deep into the Hammer heart.
'Command, sensors. Missile telemetry is nominal, missiles locked on to target. Yalla, Gwalia, and Perkins air- defense radars are up. Debris clouds now being engaged by Hammer surface-to-air missiles.'
'Roger.'
'Command, Sensors. Lost telemetry from Redress.'
'Roger,' Michael said, burying a quick pang of regret at what he had done to three of the best ships in the Federated Worlds order of battle, the last of the dreadnoughts gone.
'Command, tac. Twenty seconds to reentry. Launching comsats.'
'Command, roger.' He watched dispensers spit the tiny black spheres into space, solid-fuel motors firing them an instant later to lift them into orbit. They would not last long, but long enough to contact the NRA.
'Command, sensors,' Carmellini said. 'Comsats are online. Go ahead, sir.'
'Roger,' Michael said, checking that the landers were on vector and that they faced no immediate threats. 'Okay, Jayla. Take over. You have command.'
'Roger, sir. I have command. Let's hope the NRA will talk to us.'
'We'll see,' Michael said. He patched his neuronics into the comsat network. 'NRA, NRA, this is Helfort, Helfort. Urgent message for Mutti Vaas. Urgent message for Mutti Vaas. Please respond, over.'
The silence that followed seemed to drag on forever, the only sound the soft rattling of Widowmaker's hull as it started to bite into Commitment's upper atmosphere. 'NRA, NRA, this is Helfort, Helfort. Urgent message for Mutti
