Not With A Whimper: Destroyers

by D. A. Boulter

  “Ignore them,” Müller ordered. Nothing they could do to help, anyway.

  The Flight Comm lit. “Herr Major Müller, orders?”

  Müller sent to his flight: “Observe only, at present. Next orbit, we’ll see the situation. We’ll protect our stations – first priority.” If they survived. He looked down. Whole sections of the brilliantly lit Japan went dark. More nuclear warheads. He passed the information to their passengers. Insanity.

  Those freighters parked near stations either continued to sit there, blown, or had initiated full burn to escape the terrible destruction. The flight passed close enough to Tanaka’s Sendai Maru – under full burn – to blow her, but he refrained.

  “Captain?”

  “Yes, Horst?”

  “Signal from our Moon colony.” Tessler sounded shocked. “A broadcast.”

  “What is it?”

  “They report someone detonated a biologic weapon, sir. Colonists are dying en masse. They ask all to stay away. No safety – only death – awaits any who go there.”

  Another option gone. They had neither the air nor the food to make Mars – if Mars had not also succumbed to the madness.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday,” the call came in. “Nippon Lines, Atago Maru, holed and under attack by–”

  “Horst,” Müller said, “see if you can raise our stations or anyone from Emil or Berta Flights. Could be all the comm-sats aren’t yet destroyed.”

  Tessler bent to the task. He looked up after a minute. “Got Berta-4. Jürgens says that the Station Alpha is abandoning ship. Ami fighters are targeting the life-pods. They request help.”

  Schmidt inputted the figures. “We’re 58 minutes away.”

  Müller glanced at the tactical. “Ask Jürgens if they can last. If they can’t, advise them to boost to a higher orbit.”

  He waited.

  Tessler radioed the message. “Sir, he says he won’t abandon our people. He and Karlson of Fighter-3 are the only ones left of Berta. Emil Flight – no replies. Karlson says he knows that Emil-1, 3 and 5 were destroyed. Berta-5 never got off the ground – they blanketed the base with missiles.”

  Which meant their taking of the other crews had not affected the battle at all. The fourth and fifth waves would never have made it up, either. Müller hoped that the Americans hadn’t mis-aimed, that all of their missiles had struck their proper targets, and that Paula would be safe.

  Tessler’s voice cracked. “Karlson is gone.”

  Müller and Schmidt looked at each other. They had both known him well.

  “Jürgens says he’s hit. He’s–” Tessler sighed. “Contact lost.”

  “Bastards!” Schmidt seemed to look placidly at his screens, but all could see the tension in the man. “We can make them pay.”

  “Make who pay, Hauptmann?” Müller asked. “Other pilots tasked to do the exact thing we rose to do?”

  “But didn’t do,” Schmidt accused him. “Now we have an advantage – we’ve expended no munitions. We can take them out.”

  “And then?” He had opened the InShip, allowing all to hear the conversation.

  “And then it doesn’t matter,” Schmidt replied.

  “Hauptmann Schmidt,” Major Baumeister’s voice came through clearly, calmly. “We’ve been monitoring other frequencies. Full-scale war between Pakistan and India has erupted. They’ve used nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons on each other. The South Americans fired satellite killers at North American satellites and stations. They’ve also dumped tonnes of debris into orbit, making it unsafe to traverse normal shipping lanes. The North Americans have retaliated with nuclear weapons.”

  “What of it?” Schmidt asked, not even giving her the respect due her rank.

  She didn’t call him on it. “What do you expect we’ll find if we make it through that mess to get back to Deutschland? Those fighters you want to destroy, how much fuel have they expended? All they can do, now, is orbit or return to Earth, or possibly try for Haida Gwaii, but they will not have enough fuel for manoeuvre. They may have enough to brake, not much more. If they make it through the debris field back to Earth, what do you think they’ll find?”

  “Signal from Io,” Tessler interrupted. “The war has spread there, too. And more reports from Mars suggest devastation. Given the time-lapse for signals to get here, the war must have started there simultaneously with that below. Someone planned this far ahead.”

  “We must do our duty,” Schmidt said. “We must attack those who have attacked us.”

  “Enough,” Müller ordered. “We’ll make another orbit or two, and see the situation, then decide.”

  Two more orbits showed the situation to be a disaster in all ways. Fighters still engaged each other, but most of the stations, and ships docked to them, had suffered catastrophic damage. Wreckage littered the path heading toward the Moon; most of the shuttles and life-pods that they had seen on previous orbits heading that way had been destroyed.

  With a bitterness that he just barely kept out of his voice, Müller made his decision.

  “Horst, pass word to Anton Flight that we boost on my mark. We’re heading for Haida Gwaii.”

  “That’s treason!” Schmidt growled. “I’m relieving you of command, Herr Major.”

  Müller smiled, and turned on the InShip, though Schmidt would not be able to see that. “Very well, Hauptmann. If I’m relieved of command, that puts Frau Major Baumeister in command. Frau Major, command of Fighter-1 and Anton Flight devolves to you. Orders?”

  Schmidt snarled. “I’m second-in-command of this fighter.”

  “Were second-in-command,” came Erika’s voice, which caused Müller to grin again. “I’m ranking officer on board if Major Müller is relieved of command. Failure to obey my orders will be considered mutiny. Are you a mutineer, Hauptmann Schmidt?”

  “Erich,” Müller spoke, before Schmidt could get himself in more trouble with the crew than he could get out of – with the two crews on board, as well as the maintenance people. “Deutschland as we know it is gone. The ETO is gone. Our Moon, Mars, and Io colonies are gone or going. Our stations up here are gone – along with their defenders. The other stations: either gone or going. They cannot support us even if they wanted to. We can do as you say, and die in a fight that means nothing, or we can go to Haida Gwaii, and perhaps live.” With Erika by his side, he badly wanted to live.

  “Why would they take us?”

  “Do you think we are the only ones who will see the Family station sitting there free – and as yet untouched? Others, perhaps maddened by this insanity, will want to destroy her, as well. We will offer our protection.”

  “It’s treason,” Schmidt said.

  Müller called up their orders. “According to our orders, the FTL stations and ships are targets of opportunity. With most of the orbiting stations damaged beyond repair or destroyed, does not Haida Gwaii become our priority target?”

  When Schmidt made no comment, Müller continued. “Thus, let us boost for Haida Gwaii to destroy it. We have many hours in which to make the decision. We can await further orders from Command during that time.”

  Schmidt seemed to collapse, though remaining at his station. A minute later, he replied. “Course inputted to your screen, Herr Major.”

  So. He had won – at least for the moment.

  “Frau Major, after the burn, I suggest that your crew relieve mine.”

  “Of course, Herr Major,” came Erika’s voice.

  “Horst, pass the message to the other ships: We boost for Haida Gwaii. But only a short boost to get us on the way; we need to save fuel.”

  “Jawohl, Herr Major.”

  One minute later they boosted, and they quickly overtook a small stream of evacuation pods headed in the direction of the Moon. One more remained in their path, far ahead. Müller removed his helmet. He undid his straps and allowed himself to float free. He met Erika on her way up to the command deck. She put her hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. Her eyes showed comp
assion. He wondered if she had had any trouble with her crew.

  “Wake me in four hours, if you please,” he said, giving her a slight nod.

  TWENTY-THREE

  NAKAMURA SHUTTLE EIGHT

  Sunday, August 29th

  With a horror that grew with each minute, Christy watched the detector, and listened to the pleas for help – and mercy – that flooded the emergency bands.

  Ken Nakamura heard the dying call from FTL-1 and put it on the speakers so all could hear – even those in the passenger compartment.

  “All FTL ships, we are abandoning station. Do not stay to pick up survivors; jump to hyperspace immediately you are able. Catastrophe Plan Alpha now in effect. We will attempt to get to Haida Gwaii, but are doubtful of success. Attacking vessels are targeting life-pods from destroyed ships and stations.

  “Come back for us in 7 days. If we do succeed, we’ll be in that approximate position, waiting for you. Do not, I repeat, do not allow any military vessels of any nation to close with you.

  “Repeat to All FTL ships: We are abandoning station. Do not–”

  The broadcast suddenly went silent.

  “What’s Catastrophe Plan Alpha?” Jensen asked Nakamura.

  Ken looked up, stricken. “It is based on the premise that all have turned against the Families and that we must survive however we can. Our leaders misjudged the situation,” he said grimly. “They thought that the new nationalism of the Earth Governments, and the desperation of the old TPCs like Amalgamated Lines, might turn them against us because we’ve gained so much power in terms of trade over the last twenty years. So, we planned for that; knowing that the loss of so many trade vessels, and the consequent crash of the economies of all concerned would bring them back to their senses. No one predicted this.” He went silent, and listened for a moment.

  “Oh, my God!” Nakamura shuddered, and then played back what he had heard.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. FTL Ship Maid Marion holed and open to space. Abandoning ship.” A pause. “For whatever good that will do us. All ships: Earth Governments at war with each other. Have used nuclear weapons. Reports of widespread destruction. Most major cities destroyed: New York, Tokyo, Shanghai, Moscow, Berlin, London, New Delhi, Los Angeles, Toronto, Montreal, and too many more to list. Reports of chemical and biological attacks. Escaping destruction by returning to Earth not, repeat, not advised.”

  “Jesus,” Jensen said quietly.

  “They’ve all gone mad,” Christy said. Then she closed her eyes. Her institute. Tamara and all her other employees: dead. Only she and Arch remained. She lowered her head and began to cry.

  Jensen reached back and put his hand on her shoulder as she sobbed. “Yeah, it’s bad. Worse than anything anyone has ever dreamed of since the so-called Cold War ended back in the 1900s. But we’re alive, and we have to keep on living.” He suddenly stopped talking, and his grip on her tightened. “Now we know the reason for Colonel Westorn’s hurry. He knew about this, the bastard. He knew, and he fully intended to do his part.”

  Nakamura turned in his seat. “Why would he go along with this insanity?”

  Jensen shrugged. “USNA must have planned a surprise attack, and expected to be the only one left standing. Idiots. They, the USNA government – hell, and all the others – must have thought they were the only ones who had secreted nuclear warheads during the mass disarmament of the 2100s. And each thought: ‘Finally, a war we can win.’ Idiots.”

  Christy looked through her tears to the detector. “But why hasn’t he – Westorn – called up Haida Gwaii and asked for sanctuary. It’s over. Nobody won.”

  Nakamura smiled sadly. “You don’t understand that sort of man – or woman. The mentality that allows something like this to happen will continue to assert itself, wanting to build back what it has lost. He intends to use Haida Gwaii as the new headquarters of the USNA government.”

  “But there no longer is a USNA government,” Christy exclaimed.

  Jenson shook his head. “No, but I think he intends to be it.”

  “Good God!”

  “Exactly. And that’s why we must stop them.”

  They sat silently for an hour, watching the detectors.

  “Look, there’s a life-pod accelerating away from Earth’s orbit, following us.” Christy had become more familiar with the nav screen.

  “Yes, I’ve been watching it,” Nakamura said. “It’s accelerating slowly. Heading for Venture, just like we are. It should make it, and the survivors should be safe enough – for the moment. Just like we are – for the moment.”

  “What does that mean?” Christy asked.

  “Here’s some very secret information that I’ll trade for your going to work for the Families. Haida Gwaii is more than just another station. She’s a fully-capable base of operations. She can repair ships – even build them, given enough time and the raw materials. And,” he paused, “we have hopes that she’ll become hyperspace capable. They’re working on that, right now.”

  Christy and Jensen considered that. And then Nakamura interrupted that consideration.

  “And, if we keep heading for Venture, we won’t have the fuel to go to Haida Gwaii.”

  “Why would we want to go to Haida Gwaii?” Christy asked, but the new warrior sense in her knew.

  Jensen answered. “Because that’s where we can do the most good. They’ll need us – me and my troops – to fight off Colonel Westorn.” He turned and looked Christy straight in the eye. “We can’t allow him to control such a station. With it, he can support the USNA patrol ships that don’t get destroyed. With it and them, he can control all of the colonies.” He turned back to Nakamura. “Ken, alter course. We’re going to Haida Gwaii.”

  * * *

  Monday, August 30th

  Nakamura swore. “Fighters – ETO from their ID icons – closing on the life-pod.”

  The three of them waited in horrific anticipation of the Europeans firing missiles at the defenceless pod. But they sped on by it as if it were standing still.

  “Damn, looks like they’re going to go after the station,” Jensen said. “They’re insane. What can they possibly get out of it?”

  However, an hour later they heard the fighter’s commander calling on the radio.

  “Haida Gwaii, Haida Gwaii, this is Major Karl Müller of the European Treaty Organization, commanding five shuttle-fighters now approaching you.”

  Jensen and Nakamura exchanged glances. But the conversation went entirely differently from what they expected. When it finished, they shook their heads.

  “Well, that’s different,” Jensen said. “Someone who hasn’t lost his mind completely, who can think for himself.”

  Before he could say anything further, the radio came to life again. This time the life-pod called Haida Gwaii to report themselves on the way.

  “Children,” Christy said in amazement. “They’re only children.”

  “I met them,” Jensen told her, to both her and Ken’s amazement. “I saw them on the concourse, just before everything went sideways. Some of Westorn’s men were about to give them a bad time, so I intervened and saved them that. Good kids. Smart, too; they didn’t give me any argument, just took off like I told them to.”

  “More company coming,” Nakamura said, looking at the detector. “Looks like a multi-national force – fighters. This is becoming a crowded part of space. I wonder if they’re spoiling for a fight, and the Europeans are the only likely ones to give it to them.”

  But, no, the leader of the multi-national group called in next, proclaiming their intention to save themselves and not instigate any trouble. However, they, like the shuttle, were short of fuel. As with the Europeans, Haida Gwaii ordered them to Venture for inspection.

  “I think now is the time,” Nakamura said. “We must warn Haida Gwaii. Perhaps the Europeans can help – but they’ll need to change course.”

  Jensen nodded. “Do it.”

  “Haida Gwaii, Nakamura Shuttle Eight.” He indica
ted Jensen.

  Jensen spoke quickly. “Topside Shuttle One does not contain refugees, but USNA soldier-fanatics bent on capturing your station for the USNA.”

  And he could get no more out, for a burst of noise on the frequency drowned out all signals.

  “Jamming,” Nakamura said. “However, at least we warned them.”

  “But will it help?” Christy looked at how far behind them the fighters lagged, at how close Westorn’s shuttle had come to their possible salvation.

  Nakamura answered, “That depends on what Major Müller decides to do. I think he’s too far away to destroy the shuttle before it gets there, but his flight has military people on board, which could help. Right now, however, we’re the only ones who can arrive in time to reinforce whatever security people Haida Gwaii can muster before Westorn can take the place over.”

  “He has only about sixty troops, right Frank?” Christy asked.

  “Possibly eighty. And although a space station is liable to have up to a hundred times the manpower, these are trained soldiers with weaponry and armour that civilians won’t be able to match. Haida Gwaii isn’t operational yet, according to Ken, here. They might not have a full security staff, and they might not have more than a dozen or so weapons. Yes, he could do just what Mr Nakamura suggests.”

  “What do we have – besides my gun and yours?” She saw Ken’s eyes widen at that.

  “We can’t risk you, Dr Burnett,” he said. “Not if what Sergeant Jensen says is true.”

  “Oh, it’s true, all right,” Jensen replied. He pulled out his pistol and checked it over, causing Christy to do the same. She had the one pistol – six cartridges, no reloads. “And Dr Burnett has already taken out one of their top soldiers, so don’t count her out.”

  Ken turned and stared at her.

  “I’ve had some involuntary training,” she said “Same as those fanatics – though not as much.”

  Nakamura, eyes still wide turned to Jensen for confirmation. At his nod, he pursed his lips. “But she’s on our side, right?”