CROSSFIRE - Atlantis DSV - New Cape Quest

Richards nodded as he watched the torpedoes disappear, only to be replaced by
multiple enemy subfighters on the tactical display. Most submarine systems were shielded
from EM radiation, but the active-camo systems of the Alliance fighters had no such
protection, and probably never would simply because of their complexity. The torpedoes
may not have exploded, but the detonation of their electrostatic warheads alone had
knocked out every active camouflage and sonar-decoy system within a two mile radius:
including every one of the Macronesian stealth fighters.
He looked at Ainsley in quiet awe, but the Admiral had already set about the task of
managing the rest of the fleet. It now fell to the skill of the UEO pilots to finish their job, and
Commonwealth could do little to change whatever outcome that might be.
“First priority is the Reverence,” Banick ordered. “Load all batteries with intercept
rounds and cover her withdrawal. Cycle pulse cannons to full power and begin targeting their
fighters.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Ainsley nodded. “Good. Communications, get me a line to Captain Ford.”
The CIC waited pensively for a moment as the radiomen went about the order. It took
agonizingly long seconds to do it, as jamming and damage to their sister ship had made it
anything but a simple task.
Banick and Ainsley looked at the radio operator nervously, and he offered an
encouraging smile as he re-routed the line first through the Commonwealth‟s orbiting
WSKRS probes, and then relayed it by laser through the flanking Fall River. Finally, he gave
a thumbs-up as static momentarily filled Ainsley‟s headset. The Admiral nodded his approval
to the radioman, and pulled the set on properly.
“Reverence-actual this is Commonwealth, what‟s your status?”
“...Commonwealth, this is Reverence-actual.” Ainsley breathed a sigh of relief as he
recognised Captain Jonathan Ford‟s voice. A quiet applause rose in the CIC for a moment
before Ainsley held up a silencing finger.
“Enemy jamming has out open comms scrambled, Commonwealth. Is this line
secure?” asked Ford.
“It is,” Ainsley confirmed. “This is Admiral Ainsley, I‟ve assumed command of local
forces until we get you out of this. Just keep that part quiet for the time being... I‟d prefer the
Alliance not know too much about what we‟ve got for them.”
“Understood, sir. Seems kind of appropriate that you‟d be the one to pull us out of
this one. Good to have you back.”
Ainsley smiled. “We‟ll save that for later, Captain. What‟s your situation?”
“Hull breaches across all lower decks, Admiral. Hydro-pressure seals on the sea
doors have flight operations closed. We can‟t launch or receive fighters at this time.
Weapons stocks are at fifteen percent. We‟ve lost two engines, and can‟t make much better
than four-zero knots. We‟ve sustained a ten degree list to starboard and can‟t equalize
without risking ballast control.”
Ainsley grimaced. He hadn‟t expected it to be that bad, and had been hoping
Reverence might still be able to lend support. For the time being, that left the
Commonwealth on her own. Banick‟s jaw tensed at this news.
“Understood, Captain. Continue your withdrawal... VF-115 is covering you. SEWACS
will update you on any changes. Be advised that all open traffic is lamp shaded.”
“Will do, Admiral. Give them hell for us.”
“My word on it, Captain. Commonwealth: out.”
Ainsley killed the link and returned quickly to the plot, watching as the two welldefined
lines of subfighters, both Alliance and UEO, began to dissolve in to a swirling,
unpredictable melee. He knew merely from the approving nod that Richards gave as he
surveyed it that the initial news was good, and put his attention elsewhere.
“Torpedoes in the water!” bellowed one of the side stations. “Bearing zero nine zero!
Range, four miles!”
Ainsley ignored it. That was Banick‟s job, and he did it well enough.
“Time to impact?”
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