Omega Force: Rebellion (OF11), стр. 66
The 405th Battlefleet was one of the preeminent and most feared mainline combat unit within the ConFed fleet. The ships were all new, cutting edge vessels out of the Aracoria Shipyards, the same place that designed and built the Defiant, and it was crewed by the best of the best. No political appointments or legacy officers aboard these ships, just hardened warriors and spacers that knew how to do their jobs.
The fleet had jumped in on them in such a way that there was no place to try and run. They were in a scatter deployment that allowed them to cover any escape vector Jason might take. He wasn't foolish enough to think he'd continue to escape notice. A DL7 sitting in space near where the HDF had just gotten wiped out wouldn't be a hard puzzle for the Machine to put together.
"Oh, boy…we are so screwed."
"Admiral!"
"I see them," Kellea said with a calm she didn't feel. Her battlecruiser was a formidable ship, but compared to a dreadnaught and two battleships along with the accompanying destroyers and cruisers that made up the 405th Battlefleet, she was insignificant. If they decided the Cridal ship needed to pay for what had just happened down in that system, there was little she could do to stop them.
As the ConFed's real warships arrayed themselves into a blocking formation, the panic really set in for the ships still loitering in the area. The holographic tactical situation display exploded into action as drive signatures flared all around the system. Everything from small courier ships to massive cargo haulers were pushing for the outer system at maximum power. The ConFed ships seemed content to let them pass by, which made Kellea wonder what their point was here until she saw that the Eshquarian ships were still just sitting in the same place in a loose formation.
"Admiral, there's something off the sensors have picked up," Captain Essel said, pointing to one of the overhead displays. "Just after the Imperial Navy ships attacked the Home Defense Force, a small flotilla of attack boats swarmed their fleet. They came from a cargo ship that has fled to well beyond weapons range."
"Are they attacking, or helping the Eshquarians?" Kellea wondered aloud.
"Within fifteen minutes of their arrival, the ships in the formation drifted, and some had their power signatures drop dramatically," Essel said. "If I was to guess, I'd say it was a boarding party meant to capture them."
"One small attack boat to take on the crew of a Luex-class battleship?" Kellea scoffed. "Try again. Something else is happening in this system. Keep observing and report anything unusual."
"We're not leaving?" Essel asked, confused.
"We're here as invited guests." Kellea smiled. "We won't be so rude as to leave just because our hosts are having a bit of an internal squabble."
"I… Yes, Admiral."
"Captain! A ConFed assault carrier is deploying fighters near the engagement area."
"What possibly point could there be for that?" Essel asked.
"They're going after the attack boats," Kellea said, frowning. "This just gets more confusing as it goes along. What's this group here breaking off for?"
"They're pursuing a single ship that was in the area, Admiral," the sensor operator said. "The beacon has it listed as a high-speed courier ship, but the sensor profiles list it as a Jepsen Aero DL7 that's on our Report and Track watch list."
"Of course," Kellea sighed, a few things becoming clearer. "What's the gunship doing?"
"They're…fleeing, Admiral. They have nine Stellovar-class fighters in hot pursuit. So far, the DL7 is outrunning them."
"But he has nowhere to go," Kellea mused, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the display. "He's cut off from any mesh-out point his ship's slip-drive would be able to use."
"Admiral?"
"Just thinking aloud, Captain. I know who is flying that gunship, and he's not a man who allows himself to be so easily trapped. I'm just trying to figure out what his role is in this little drama we're watching."
"He looks like he may have blundered into an area he can't escape," Essel said.
"If I know him, he's probably counted on this, and he's baiting the fighters for some reason we can't see yet."
"We're in deep, deep shit, Jason!"
"I know, I know!" Jason snapped. "I can fucking see them, Kage. Twingo! Take the safeties off the main reactor and run it up as hot as it'll get. Full combat mode, I need everything she's got!"
The fighters had been a complete surprise. Assault carriers had fallen out of favor with most fleets and fighter squadrons were seen as an ineffective, frivolous use of resources when most modern combat shuttles were multirole craft that could handle fighter missions as well as drop off troops. Now, Jason was being pursued by nine of the hottest fighters the ConFed had ever made, and it would only be a matter of time before they'd use their numerical advantage to corral him into a spot where they could open up or push him near one of the capital ships so they could hammer at him.
The air crackled with energy and smelled of ozone as the main reactor ramped up and power coursed through the gunship. The main drive output edged up by another few percentage points past the suggested maximum output and the Phoenix shot ahead of her pursuers, able to outrun them for the time being.
"Can we outlast those fighters on fuel?" he asked.
"Negative," Twingo said over the intercom. "We're going through our fuel reserves at an alarming rate right now, Captain."
"They're just going to keep swinging out and around, pushing us into those cruisers," Kage said. "When that happens, we're going to get smacked with one of the big guns."
"What about the Eshquarian fleet? Any reaction from them yet?"
"Eh…nothing you'll be happy about," Kage said as he watched one of the flanking Imperial frigates begin to inexplicably spin wildly out of formation. "I think we may need to concentrate on our own exit strategy here, Captain."
"What do you