Redemption of Sisyphus

by Eric Michael Craig

  “None of them are transmitting, however the Challenger and Archer are under power and maneuvering,” Dutch said. “The Galen is also down, however the three ice haulers appear to be operating normally.”

  “What is content of downlink?” Rocky asked, jumping back to Dutch’s original statement.

  “We have received a copy of Odysseus Solo.”

  “I thought you were isolated,” Jeph said.

  “It came over the approach control radar system,” Dutch explained.

  “Are you sure it is Solo?” he asked.

  “It has made no effort to unpack, and I have it isolated and am monitoring it for activity,” it said.

  “Dutch isolate yourself from approach control radar,” Rocky ordered.

  “That is our only direct situational awareness that does not feed from the Tacra Un sensor system,” Dutch said. “Due to interface translation issues I have limited ability to track and coordinate weapons controls through that interface.”

  “Do it anyway,” Jeph said. “If Odysseus can use the radar as an infiltration pathway, we cannot risk losing you.”

  “Understood,” it said. “However this was not the collective Odysseus, so it may not have realized this channel was available.”

  “What about targeting radar?” Cori asked.

  “It is a narrow aperture technology so would need to remain focused on a specific target long enough to identify and then override,” it explained. “The potential risk of establishing a data link is low, as the beam will be in continuous motion while in combat use.”

  “You’ve got dropships inbound,” Kiro said. “I can see at least three or four, but it’s getting hot out here so I’m busy flying.”

  “Are you going to make it down?”

  “Let me get back to you on that,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d put his eggs in a blender.

  “Yah, that’s a no for now,” he said after several seconds of silence. “We’ve got to get some distance. They don’t like how we smell, I think.”

  Personal Quarters of the Executive Director: Galileo Station:

  Derek sat staring at the carpet. He had turned off his wallscreen and was trying to think as little as possible about anything. Nothing was going the way he’d expected, and he felt alone and abandoned in the crumbling ruins of the world he’d tried to dream into existence.

  His door pinged, and he linked to the security optic, seeing the image of one of his guards standing outside looking nervous.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice carrying over his valet system to the external speaker.

  “Director Tomlinson,” the guard said, looking up at the optic. “You might want to come in to the Ops Center. Our security fleet has moved out to L-2 and is attacking the shipyard.”

  Is this true? he thought to Odysseus.

  No answer.

  Are you attacking FleetCom?

  “Yes,” it replied. His wallscreen activated and showed him the view from a ship at the back edge of their battle group. As he watched, one of the station’s defensive turrets flashed like a distant spark.

  You didn’t think to tell me you were escalating the war? he thought.

  “No,” it said.

  Why not? He already knew why, so wasn’t surprised when silence answered him.

  “Director, are you alright sir?” the guard said, knocking on the door itself. “Are you coming?”

  “Yes I am fine,” he said. “I won’t be joining you.”

  “Sir, the deck officer sent the request herself,” he said. “She wanted me to make sure you were aware of what was going on.”

  “Tell her I am aware, and I will not be joining you,” he said.

  “But—”

  “I said no. Do I have to be more clear than that?” he said.

  “No sir,” he said. “I‘ll let her know.” He watched the optic in his mind as the guard hesitated for several seconds before he turned and marched away.

  Standing up, he walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a tall glass of scotch. He stared at it for almost a minute before he gulped it down and gasped. Pouring a second one, he carried it into the bedroom where he had left his jammer. Without thinking, he punched the blue button and threw himself down on his bed.

  He didn’t want to know anymore.

  Gateway Colony: L-4 Prime:

  “Dutch, let’s bring up the lasers,” Jeph said. “Ian says we’ve got at least six ships inbound.”

  “Affirmative,” Dutch said. “Unfortunately, with the variability of the gas density near the surface, I cannot guarantee the effectiveness of the weapons on targets beyond ten kilometers.”

  “Can you track them?” Cori asked. He flipped the visor down on his helmet and watched as his troops followed suit.

  “Targeting radar is returning images,” Dutch said. “I can lock targets, but until they get within range, there is little I can do.”

  “We’re moving into position in the Waltz,” Cori said, looking around and gesturing to positions he wanted his squad to hold. “Seva, stand tight on Engineering Deck Two with your units, and we’ll move up one deck.” The plating in the decks rumbled, and he recognized the sound of braking engines. At close range.

  “Dutch have they gotten past you up there?” Seva asked. Another rumble and a loud bang echoed down the length of the ship. “Dutch?”

  “Is Dutch down?” Cori asked.

  “Core is still powered, but logic appears to be offline,” Rocky said. She was in the main part of the colony, but stationed at a console and monitoring the systems.

  “Did Odysseus get in?”

  “I do not know,” the engineer said. “Automated weapons systems are down.”

  “We can control them manually from the ConDeck can’t we?” Cori said, pushing himself toward the railing and looking up the chute. It was still clear all the way to the nose of the ship.

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to read the raw radar images without help,” Alyx said, cutting in on the com. “I’m on my way.”

  “No you’re not,” Jeph said.

  “I’m the only one that can do it,” she said.

  Another loud thump against the upper hull and Cori shook his head. Alyx appeared, pushing her way through the troops that had crowded the deck. She was wearing a PSE and had an air mask slung under her chin. It wasn’t the same as the EVA suits the militia units wore, but it would keep her breathing more than long-enough to get back to safety, if they breached the hull. “She’s already here, boss,” he said.

  “We don’t have time to waste,” she said, grabbing the rail beside him and launching up the chute with a shove. Cori leapt to follow her a split second later.

  “Just don’t get yourself killed being a hero,” Jeph said.

  “Not planning on it,” she said. She disappeared onto the ConDeck as another boom thundered through the hull.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Exeter inside Lunar L-2 Shipyard Defense Net:

  It wasn’t hard work to hold off the ghost fleet, it was just complex. The Exeter and Concord were dancing from target to target, hitting enemy ships as they grouped to take out a turret. Their AA coordinated with the L-2 Command and Control network and kept track of the enemy ships as they swarmed in what looked like random patterns.

  Every few minutes they predicted points where three or more enemy ships would come together just beyond the outer range of one of their turret’s beams. When that happened, they had a target and moved into position to disperse the group.

  Almost every time they got into range, one of the enemy ships took damage, sometimes two. But they always lost a turret in the process. Sometimes the group broke up before they could engage, and they lost a turret without taking any blood for it. Fortunately, it didn’t happen often.

  “Captain we’ve got two groups forming up,” the helmsman said.

  “Pick the closest one,” he said, glancing at the screen and feeling them lurch as they spun to their new heading and the main
engines kicked them to toward their target.

  “The second group is breaking off and moving in our direction,” the helmsman said.

  “In our direction?”

  “Yes sir,” he said. “Under full thrust.”

  “What the hell are they doing?” the captain said. “Come around and engage.”

  “We’ll lose lock on the first group,” the weapons officer said.

  “Try to get them with the port side guns as we pivot,” he ordered.

  “Nogo. We’re still out of range. We’ve got no targeting resolution.”

  “Then let it go,” he said. “I don’t like that they think they can come for us.”

  “Exeter we’ve got an off attack pattern forming,” L-2 DefCon said. “Looks like you’ve got a group targeting you.”

  “We see it,” the captain said. “Three ships inbound at 800 klick.”

  “Negative Exeter,” she said. “We’re tracking eighteen inbound to starboard, range 1400 klick.”

  “Confirmed,” his navigator said. “Closing hard.”

  “Evasive maneuvers, let’s get some distance,” the captain ordered.

  “The first group is also breaking off and swinging to,” the weapons officer said. Range 900 kilometers.”

  “They’ll be on us before we can vector,” the helmsman said. “We’re moving into their forward arcs.”

  “Weapons, target the closest group and open fire,” he said, his calm shredding as the wolf packs closed on them.

  “Concord, come about and cover the Exeter, they’ve got about ten seconds before they’re in a firefight,” DefCon said.

  “Roger that, we’re about forty seconds.”

  Helm give us best coverage and dive for—”

  “We’re taking fire,” the engineer yelled. “Hull breaches reported deck twenty and thirty-six. Emergency bulkheads are sealing.”

  “Two targets down,” the weapons officer said.

  “Exeter get out of there,” the captain of the Concord barked. “You’ve got heat coming fast.”

  “Engines to full, let’s get some range,” he said.

  “Heading?” the helmsman asked, his voice rising as the ships converged.

  “Anywhere. Straight out of here,” the captain said.

  It took almost four seconds for the fusion drive to come to full thrust. About half way through that process, the beams from three enemy ships sliced the starboard primary thrust plate to shreds. The engine buckled forward as the power came up and twisted the ship into a pinwheel of scattering debris.

  FleetCom Military Operations Center: Lunar L-2 Shipyard:

  “The Exeter’s dead,” the captain of the Concord reported. They’d all watched it happen on the main screen, so it was only a formality hearing the words.

  “We’ve still got twenty ships inbound through the net under full power,” Sage said, somehow not showing a reaction to the news in her voice.

  “Turrets are inflicting damage, but they’re going to get through,” the OpsCom officer said.

  “Concord, come around to give pursuit. That attack group is going to break the line,” she said.

  “We’re on it,” the captain growled, sounding like he was bent on revenge.

  “Bring the other multicruisers forward now,” the admiral said. He stood staring at the main screen and watching the ships leap into action. We waited too long.

  “Yes sir,” she said, passing the orders.

  “We’ve got six minutes until the rest of their fleet gets here,” Ducat said from the OpsCom station. He was shaking his head.

  “Fifty-six minutes until the Kitty Hawk battle group arrives,” Visser said. She was shaking her head too. “We won’t last that long.”

  “Turrets are thinning them out, but it looks like at least twelve will make it through,” Sage said.

  “What about the interceptors?” Roudini asked.

  Quintana looked at his first officer. “I wouldn’t,” she said. “Since we’re pushing the big boys forward, they’re our only secondary line. I’d hold them in for close cover.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “They’re throwing the rest of their blockade group into the gap,” Ducat said. “It looks like they’re angling for the Concord and ignoring the turrets.

  “Concord you need to punch it, they’re hunting you,” the admiral said.

  The screen showed the plume from the Concord lash back as the ship leapt to full thrust. The tactical display showed it angling back toward the station and its heading would intercept the other four multicruisers about half way between the shipyard and the inner ring of the defense net. Good position, he thought.

  “Admiral we’ve got another problem,” Sage said, glancing over her shoulder at Quintana. This time her voice sounded like she’d just inhaled helium, and it sent a chill down his spine. “Tsiolkovskiy long range tracking, is reporting additional contacts.”

  “Additional contacts?”

  “Where?” Visser said.

  “Twenty-seven kiloklick and closing hot,” she said. “Inbound heading indicates they may be from the same place as the first fleet deployment.”

  “Shit,” he swore, stepping up behind her and grabbing the back of her chair to look at her screen.

  “Yes sir.” She nodded, linking the feed to the main screen so everyone could see the tracking info. “It’s at least 250 ships. They’re just flipping to brake. ETA puts them at zero relative in forty-one minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes before help gets here.”

  Armstrong: Above L-4 Prime:

  The engines of the Armstrong heaved the massive ship forward toward the oncoming battle group. They still didn’t have weapons, but that was because the backup power wouldn’t carry the load until they got the reactors restarted. At least they could steer and had plenty of speed.

  “They’re scattering,” the helmsman roared over the com.

  “Keep accelerating,” Captain Jeffers said as she watched the main view screen. They had no situational display without the AA so they were flying by dead reckoning and head job calculations. Until they could get at least one system to stand back up, it was the best they could do.

  “We’ve got proximity alerts,” the navigator said. “It looks like several of the ships are turning to pursue.”

  “Perhaps we can draw them away from the surface if we don’t push too hard,” the admiral said. In a straight line, the Armstrong could outrun almost anything except the Katana.

  “We’re taking fire,” the bridge engineer said. “Minimal effect across the ship. Damage control teams are responding.”

  “More ships turning to give chase.” the navigator said.

  “Once we’re past most of our attack group, slow to two-g,” Jeffers said.

  “Excuse me sir, did you say slow to two-g?”

  “Yes. I want them to think they can keep up,” she said. “Try to keep us at the outer edge of their weapons range, but let’s let them think they have a chance of taking us down until we can get weapons back online.”

  “The Archer is moving across our bow at 200 klick in forty-five seconds,” the navigator said. “It’s got its own wolf pack in pursuit.”

  “One minute on the reactors,” the chief engineer said.

  Jeffers looked over at the admiral and winked. “Weapons, do we have automatic target control yet?”

  “No ma’am, but I’ve got gun teams on station for manual operation,” he said.

  “We’ll be crossing through a target rich environment in about a minute.”

  “We’ve got no primary power yet,” he said. “Without the juice, we’re sitting on bricks.”

  “Have them lock on the nearest visual target and hold their fingers on the buttons. When the power comes up the guns will go live. Keep shooting until the guns melt down or everybody’s dead,” she said.

  “Yes ma’am,” he said.

  “Helm, try to make sure we pass through the middle of the Archer’s wolf pack, but let’s not get
any of them on the windshield if we can avoid it,” she said.

  “The Galen is reporting they’re taking damage,” the com officer reported. “The Challenger is trying to move to engage its attack group, but is reporting it’s under heavy fire.”

  “Tell them to keep moving,” the Admiral said. “Any multicruiser is faster than any science vessel.”

  “Can we see what’s going on?” Jeffers asked.

  “They’re out of range, with the sensors down,” the navigator said.

  The ConDeck lights blinked as the reactors came online and 1,100 lasers all fired at the same time. The deck plating hummed as the power fed through the grid and sixty enemy ships all died at once. Explosions filled the main screen as debris scattered across space around them.

  “That’s how it’s done!” Jeffers roared as she pumped her fist in the air and caught the edge of her adrenaline rush. “Let’s see if we can do it again. Helm, full reverse. Bring us around and let’s punch holes in some bad guys.”

  Gateway Colony: L-4 Prime:

  By the time they got to the ConDeck one of their lasers was down. Cori opened an optic on the nose of the Waltz and it was obvious why. Three soldiers stood on the end of the ship trying to crowbar the cover off the power couplings.

  “No you don’t, bastards,” he growled, toggling the manual control screen on and swinging the cradle violently back and forth. The massive beam collimation assembly swung like a club, smashing into all three of the enemy troops and hurling them off the ship and into the ocean of cryo-fluids boiling away three hundred meters below.

  “I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to use them,” Alyx said, laughing as she turned and logged into her sensor system.

  “I think it’s called improvising,” he said. He shook his head. “Damn it, they got the one power trunk though.”

  “We’ve still got a comlink to the Hector,” she said. “Means I can access its HD sensors and see anything on this side of L-4 Prime. Without Dutch to process it, I’ll only have raw data, but it’s better than nothing.”

  She was dragging targeting radar readouts into position so she could help Cori pick out incoming dropships when the air pressure dropped and her ears popped. A second later the claxon barked, “Hull breach. EVA suits. Hull breach.”