The Bobs did as ordered. Seventy-five ships became almost four hundred signatures. Now the Others would have to react. Death zaps would simply not be an option for taking us down.
And sure enough, SUDDAR indicated a massive rearrangement of vessels. We had a couple hundred drones to deal with. Statistically, we should be able to get through the defenders with about half of our units, but that wouldn’t be enough to take the Others’ main vessels down. I was sure the Others must be smiling—or whatever they did—with glee at our pathetic showing.
And finally, contact. Andrew’s group was the first to pass through the Others’ armada. At the speeds they were travelling, there was no chance of any actual visual contact. Star Wars notwithstanding, ships didn’t buzz around each other like World War II fighter planes. Everything happened in microseconds, and showed up only in status windows.
Results from the first pass showed we’d lost about half of our busters and bombs, and eight dreadnaughts, but we’d taken out about twice as many of them. That was pretty good, and should wipe the smile-equivalents off of the Others’ face-equivalents.
Apparently the Others agreed, because half of the death asteroids released zaps at our armada.
“Report,” I ordered on the general channel.
Responses came back. No further Bob casualties, although a couple of the dreadnaughts were doing emergency repairs. They must have been caught square in the middle of a beam.
However, the bombs and busters weren’t particularly shielded, and any unit caught anywhere in one of the death-rays was dead. We had made a decision, based on this likelihood, to equip these units with regular radio comms only. No advanced SUDDAR, no SCUT, and no chance of giving anything away to the enemy.
The second wave came in right away, not giving the Others time to regroup. They approached from thirty degrees off the Others’ flight line as well, coming in from a vector at 120 degrees of rotation. I watched in the status window transmitted by the group leader.
The second wave passed through the Others’ armada as quickly as we had, but with much less organized resistance from the Others. We were able to put several nukes into a couple of big cargo carriers, and even into one of the death asteroids. The nuke must have hit a charged accumulator of some kind, because the pyrotechnics were truly epic—far more than could be accounted for by a low-yield fission bomb. Twin jets of white-hot plasma, glowing right into the x-ray band, shot out of the vessel in opposite directions. The surface of the death asteroid peeled back, then it completely disintegrated, spewing pieces in all directions. Cheers went up from all the video windows.
The Others responded with a volley of something—possibly drones, possibly missiles—aimed at the receding attack group. The bogeys displayed truly incredible acceleration, in the hundreds of G’s. It took only moments for us to find out what they were.
Fusion bombs.
The second battle group had been clustered together—no reason to scatter, as far as they knew. Now they were melted slag. We’d lost twenty-five dreadnaughts and a couple hundred drones. Bobs looked at each other, stunned.
But our third battle group was coming in, and we had no time to mourn. I sent a quick IM to the group leader, instructing them to scatter at the end of their pass.
The Others started moving their defenses to the point a further 120 degrees around, where they expected us to come in, given a symmetrical series of assaults.
Exactly what Butterworth had suggested they’d do.
Our third group came in only ten degrees off the first group’s path, 130 degrees away from where the defenses were forming, completely blindsiding them. The dreadnaughts and drones tore through the defenders like tissue paper. Lobbed fission weapons took out two cargo vessels and another death asteroid.
As the battle group exited the theater on the far side, they scattered. The Others launched another volley of fusion drones in pursuit. The Bobs had a massive head start, but the pursuers had that ridiculous level of acceleration. It was a footrace we couldn’t win.
Everyone was intent on the developing drama, which left the door open for Butterworth’s next suggestion. A trio of lonely nukes, on ballistic trajectories, with virtually no emissions, now sailed in from the vector from which the Others had been expecting the third attack. Three flashes, and two more cargo vessels were drifting, offline.
I imagine, somewhere in one of the death asteroids, some Others general was screaming invective at his subordinates while veins pulsed on his neck and forehead. Or some equivalent. In any case, the Others apparently decided to finally take us seriously. A massive series of SUDDAR pings emanated from their fleet, swamping our receivers. The transmission power was truly incredible, and my jaw dropped at the readings. I looked at one of the other Bobs. The sheer power behind that broadcast said, better than anything else they’d done, that we were gnats.
And more to the point, it lit up every vessel and drone in the immediate area. Whether it would reveal our last surprise or not, well, we’d know in a few moments.
It did.
The Others launched a dozen fusion drones straight forward along their flight line, where several cloaked fusion bombs were approaching. This would have been our coup de grace. Instead, it would be little more than a parting shot.
I instructed the incoming nukes to begin evasive maneuvers. The Others might not be able to maintain a continuous bead on the cloaked units.
The Others’ fusion drones deployed into a defensive grid, and detonated simultaneously.
“Not bad…” Charlie said. “They estimated that pretty well.”
I checked status. “They took out two of ours. The last one still looks operational. I don’t think they have time to do anything about it. It’s also interesting that they haven’t broadcast another ping like the last one…”
“Like the gamma-ray blasts, it probably requires a recharge.”
I nodded distractedly while I guided the last cloaked fusion weapon. Right into one of the death asteroids. It detonated perfectly. When the flash cleared, there was nothing left but scattered debris.
We were done. We’d used up everything we had. Our battle groups, what was left, were heading away from the Others’ fleet at far too high a velocity to be able to turn around in any reasonable interval. By the time we could get back in the game, the Others would be at the Pav home planet.
Eight death asteroids and eleven cargo carriers were still under power. If they decided to continue on and rebuild in the system, there would be nothing we could do. We held our breath, as the seconds ticked by.
No change.
I sat, stunned, as the Others continued on towards Delta Pavonis, and the Pavs.
We’d failed.
[Incoming message. In Mandarin]