Tales from the Service: The Strike at Håkøya

2954-04-29 – Tales from the Service: The Strike at Håkøya 

There can be no doubt at this stage that the result of the Second Battle of Håkøya has had a favorable outcome. Moderate fighting in that system continues as of the time of this posting, but reports from Fifth Fleet indicate that the main body of enemy forces was confronted and routed in the orbital space above the planet on the twenty-fourth and the twenty-fifth.  

Though few enemy heavy vessels appear to have actually been destroyed, battle damage forced enough of them to withdraw that the remainder was placed at too great a disadvantage to continue the defense of the system.  

This is probably not news to most of you, being as it is some days old as of this posting. The imminent recovery of Håkøya is excellent news, of course, but many war observers are expressing concern at the rather inconclusive nature of the battle, and the apparently large number of enemy fleet assets which were able to withdraw to fight another day. 

A warning chime sounded in Ansa Harper’s ears, pulling her out of her light catnap. Sleeping any way in a Puma cockpit took a small frame little bit of skill, but Ansa, having both, and trusting her autopilot, always tried to catch a few minutes on long time-on-target approaches. The computer or the comm would wake her if there was anything to pay attention to, but there never was. 

Naps in the approach and return to base autopilot runs weren’t uncommon; they weren’t even against regulations as long as one was prepared for rude awakening at any moment. Lead could always pump his volume in any pilot’s ears if he wasn’t getting the answers he needed, but the Puma’s sensors and helm were operating as an extension of Commander Ghadavi’s rig for those parts of a mission anyway. Ansa, and the rest of the squadron, were effectively passengers, until contact with the enemy anyway. 

Now, of course, the target was coming up, and it was time to get her bearings once more. The squadron formation hadn’t changed in the last hour, and the comms channels were silent, even the direct line to Six; most likely, he’d been reading something, since he regularly complained about the cramped cockpit not letting him stretch his legs out. 

Ahead, the gas giant occupied a third of Ansa’s view, and the target moon was already visible. The squadron had begun its deceleration from cruise, so it could do more than slash past the body at incredible speed.  

As their briefing before launch had suggested, the place ahead was a hornet’s nest of frenzied activity, most of it seeming focused on escape. Small craft were darting away in all directions in ones and twos, and a pair of lumbering haulers were struggling to break orbit, their predicted courses suggesting flight toward the inner system. There didn’t seem to be much in the way of organized defense, but that didn’t mean much. Incarnation forces caught at a disadvantage had a nasty habit of pretending to be weaker than they actually were, hoping to goad their Confederated opponents into making a costly mistake. 

“Would you look at that target rich environment.” Six muttered. “We’ll be out here all day cleaning all that up.” 

“Probably.” Ansa ran a quick systems check; everything was operating at peak efficiency. She could still see the light scorch-mark left on her wing by a laser strike from the picket if she craned her head to the left, but that seemed only cosmetic. “We’ll do this by the book. Nothing fancy, Six. We’ll both have plenty to claim when we’re done.” 

“I know, I know.” 

“All units, be advised. Command has placed priority on those haulers.” Lead’s gravelly voice broke in. “Three and I will take the first one. Five and Seven, target the second. All weapons free. Target their engines. Nine, Eleven, try to cut off that lead group of shuttles heading in-system.” 

“Juicy.” Six remarked dryly. “Been a while since we’ve gotten to fire ship-killers.” 

“Let’s make them count.” Ansa sighed; each Puma only had room for a single ship-killer torpedo in its weapons bay, as well as a much smaller smart-seeker for use against other strike craft. The bulky ship-killers were devastating, but unwieldly; it was very easy to waste them, if one was not careful. 

A chirp announced that Lead had released Ansa’s helm control back to her, and she quickly punched in an intercept course for the second hauler, helpfully identified for her as a blinking red crosshair on the holo-plot, matched by another such symbol on her HUD, though the vessel was still too far away to see. The ship was a blocky, ungainly thing, in the usual style of Incarnation logistics assets. According to the intelligence briefings on the type, they’d stolen the design, and even the shipyards, from the Kyaroh on the far side of Incarnation space, and devoted all their own shipyards to warship production. They were, simply speaking, lumbering, fragile vessels, but they required only small crews and were cheap to operate. 

“This should only take one good hit.” Ansa glanced at the tactical plot, guessing what other units might be in position to protect the hauler by the time they reached it. “Keep your helm slaved and focus on getting a clean lock-on. I’ll do the fancy flying.” 

“Aye.” This was a fairly routine procedure, when it wasn’t likely to come to a close-in fight with the Pumas’ prow cannons on the way to the target. Ansa would have liked to deal the blow herself, but it was Six’s turn to get the first shot in, and in any case, she’d get an assist on anything he bagged. As an added bonus, focusing on the temperamental ship-killer's lock on system would keep Six quiet, and permit Ansa to devote her attention to watching for potential surprises. There always seemed to be surprises. 

A moment after the squadron broke formation to pursue its various targets, the first surprise arrived. “Be advised.” Lead announced. “The computer just positively identified at least one Coronach escorting the lead shuttles. Expect them to hide around soft targets and jump you as you make your attack runs.” 

“You worry about the weapon launch, Six. Let me worry about the opfor.” Ansa switched her sensors to directional-identify mode, sending waves of radar pulses ahead. So far, the computer identified the handful of small craft around her target as repair tenders. This was not entirely comforting; the Incarnation’s rare, heavily armed Jericho strike bomber was about the same size as such vessels, and she didn’t want to fly into a surprise fan of phase-beams. Coronachs too, being tiny, could easily be hiding behind the hauler, waiting to strike. 

“We’ll come in from behind.” Ansa altered their course to sweep around to the aft quarter of the hauler. “Expect some fancy dodging as we get close. You’re free to launch when you’ve got a good lock.” 

“Aye, Five.” Six replied nervously. Going in slaved might be routine, but Ansa needn’t imagine the apprehension he felt; his life was in her hands now. For all the advantages of sharing the workload, that wasn’t something Puma pilots were ever comfortable with. “Warming up my torpedo now.” 

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Tales from the Inbox: The Arrival of the Zenith Treader

2954-05-06 – Tales from the Inbox: The Arrival of the Zenith Treader 

Gareth Glass sighed as Zenith Treader’s Himura drive wound down and the familiar, if harsh, blue glow of Sagittarius Gate slanted in through the viewpanels. It had been nearly three weeks since he or anyone else aboard had seen natural starlight of any kind, and though this was far from the ship’s first Gap passage, it was always a relief to reach the end of the run. 

“Gareth, get the controller on comms and get us a berth.” Ellia Kossner, Treader’s skipper, stood up from her station and stretched. “I’ll be in my cabin.”  

“Gladly.” On such a small crew, and a civilian-chartered one at that, they didn’t bother much with the formalities of command. Besides the two of them, Treader only had three other spacers on the crew – there was Kim Sung, the engineer, and techs Estrada and Lowell, both just hired on at Maribel at the beginning of the current run. Their old tech, Susan Atwood, had unexpectedly resigned her position and left the ship, and the skipper, not wanting to take a chance on a single new hire for a Gap crossing, had signed on two likely candidates just in time to make their scheduled departure. 

Gareth soon found himself alone on the command deck. While routine status and intention reports sped away on tight beams toward port control, he turned on the compartment’s overhead speakers and fed them some of his favorite music. The jangling, melodic, often haunting tones of the Tranquility Wave moved through him. Even though he’d never been to Tranquility or to the lesser worlds in its orbit, Gareth had loved the musical styles born there since he was very young. 

Nobody else on the ship shared his enthusiasm, of course, so Gareth had to listen on his own, or in his earpiece. Sung in particular, a Hyadean through and through, despised anything that “had the reek of Ori about it.” Gareth didn’t want her to think him a partisan in the ancient feud between Hyades and Orionis. 

Some minutes later, the first signals directed at Zenith Treader from the outlying watch-posts began to trickle in. The computer automatically responded to the various challenges with appropriate responses. Most likely, these were only a formality, since the ship had visited this place half a dozen times in the last two years and its jump signature should have been in the database. 

A tap on the bulkhead drew Gareth’s attention to the rear of the compartment. There, he saw Patricia Lowell, one of the new techs, frowning up at the speakers. “Sorry to bother you. I heard we made Sagittarius, and wanted to have a look.” 

“Never been across the gap before, eh?” Gareth shrugged and turned down the music. “Have a seat if you’d like, but there’s not much to look at.” 

Lowell sat in the auxiliary station ahead of Gareth’s console, closest to the viewpanels. He’d had plenty of time to chat with the two new hires on the crew on the transit, but of course he hadn’t. The only person on the crew who shared his duty spaces was the skipper, and off duty he’d mostly stayed out of the common spaces, preferring the company of his music and a good book in his cabin. 

“This is your first Gap transit, eh?” 

“Hmm?” Lowell turned around, then shrugged. “Oh, yes. I’ve been on long-haul runs, but the last few weeks have been...” 

“The Gap is pretty hard on most spacers.” Gareth shrugged. “It gets a little easier. If you blank your cabin viewpanels and put on a little music, you can forget the dark for a while.” 

“Music like...” Here Lowell gestured up at the speakers. “Whatever that was you were playing when I came in?” 

Gareth chuckled and turned the music back up a little. “Tranq-Wave can be a bit of an acquired taste. Annoys the Skipper and Sung to no end.” 

“Really?” Lowell paused for a long moment, looking back out at the blue-white orb of Sagittarius Gate ahead of the ship. “It isn’t what I’d pick, but I’m not sure I’d call it annoying. It’s sort of like... as if space travel had an official score, like the holo-dramas do.” 

Gareth sat up suddenly. “Exactly!” He grinned. “See, I thought it was just me.” 

“I think if I listened to that for too long, sitting down on duty, I’d fall asleep.” Lowell shook her head. “Fortunately this ship keeps us busy. There’s about ten things hitting service-by date every shift.” 

“Treader is hardly new.” Gareth sighed. “But she’s adaptable, and we keep her up to date with all the new toys we can afford. Makes us more flexible than most of our competitors on the Gap run.” 

“It’s certainly one of the nicer hulls I’ve berthed in.” 

Gareth nodded his agreement, but Lowell wasn’t looking at him. She was staring out forward again, as if lost in a memory. He shrugged and went back to monitoring comms traffic. 

Though the planet itself remains in enemy hands, it seems that Fifth Fleet has won at Håkøya. Enemy garrison strength dirtside remains unknown, but with no fleet to support these troops, the outcome of a ground campaign is hardly in doubt. 

There is some concern about a counter-attack in the media, but I find this rather unlikely; the defending force in a system with so many planetary bodies holds numerous advantages. Rather than post stories of the various skirmishes and engagements of the weeks-long naval campaign in Håkøya, we’ve elected to move on to some of the other accounts that have been trickling in. Stories worth telling from the fighting there can always be inserted into this feed later. 

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