Such was the plan, at least. It was, on the face of it, a sensible strategy. The vagaries of warp travel meant that any fleet travelling as a mass would be scattered to some degree, and it was standard Navy protocol for fleets to rendezvous at a predetermined point in the target system. Acharya, for reasons neither Kulik nor Price had been able to fathom, had been so intent upon striking a blow against the orks as soon as he arrived, possibly to ensure Price gained no share of the glory, that he had not allowed for fleet consolidation and had jeopardised the entire endeavour. The dramatic but drastic measures now required were the consequence of that headstrong action.
The strategic display was orientated with the
‘Captain Kulik, please signal the fleet to assume ascending line by echelon to starboard.’
‘Aye aye, admiral.’ Kulik turned and nodded to Shaffenbeck, who passed the order to the communications officers. ‘Ascending line by echelon to starboard.’
The manoeuvre was basic but no less impressive because of that. Over the next few minutes, starting with the rearmost vessels, the two lines of capital ships started to drift up and to starboard, while the front ships drifted down and to port. This created two parallel diagonal lines, slightly overlapping on one plane, but with the tail of the port line several thousand miles above the front of the starboard line. In this formation the prow weapons of every ship could be brought to bear, and Price wasted no time taking advantage of this fact.
‘Fleet to fire torpedoes, full spread, three salvos.’
The order repeated down the ranks and a few seconds later the main display bathed the bridge with yellow light. The screen was filled with the registers of nearly a hundred plasma, atomic and cyclonic torpedoes surging towards the orks. Kulik followed their progress, followed by the second salvo, and then the third was on its way before the first wave of torpedoes had hit.
‘Main view, vid-capture ahead,’ said the captain, grinning. He glanced at Price. ‘I want to see this!’
The admiral smiled in return, a little pensively, but Kulik had no time to worry about what concerns might be burdening the thoughts of his superior. The torpedoes were almost on their target. The closest peeled open, launching dozens of plasma and nuclear warheads each.
There was no need for enhancement or magnification. One moment the screen showed the asteroid field dimly glittering in the light of the distant star. The next, blossoms of pale blue and white erupted from one side to the other, blotting out the stars. Detonation after detonation rippled across the void, here and there the darker oranges and reds of secondary explosions, or the whirling, spiralling electrical storms unleashed by cyclotronic expansions.
Then the second wave caught up with the first and the display was repeated in all of its glory, and by the time the third wave of torpedoes struck debris had formed glittering sprays of light that twinkled and spread across the whole display.
On a secondary screen dozens of enemy marker sigils winked out of existence. There were cheers from the assembled officers, who stood as one transfixed by the destruction.
‘Beautiful,’ muttered Kulik, eyes wide with awe.
‘All speed ahead!’ barked Price, who appeared unmoved by the whole experience. ‘Carrier flotilla is to launch all wings and take up support positions. Form lines of attack by squadron and prepare to engage the enemy.’
Snapped out of his appreciative fugue, Kulik relayed the order automatically.
‘Lieutenant Shaffenbeck, stand all air crews to readiness. Gun crews are to await the command. Main display to tactical.’
The view on the huge screen switched from the fading glow of the torpedo detonations to a tri-d representation of the asteroid field, with the two lines of the rimward fleet approaching from beneath. The pair of columns were breaking apart as the cruisers and battleships assumed squadron formations outlined by Price before the engagement had begun. Shorter-ranged ships moved to the fore of the attack.
‘
