Crusade (Exile Book 3)

by Glynn Stewart

  One of the many advantages of stopping a light-month outside of the target system was that it allowed Isaac to make sure his people emerged in formation. A three-hour jump was far easier to coordinate than a week-long jump.

  It had also allowed him to pick up Watchtower and her battle group, which meant he arrived in the Sivar-One System with six battlecruisers and twenty strike cruisers. He’d left several strike cruisers in deep space with his logistics ships, just in case.

  He didn’t expect to need them. Part of the reason for making sure the massive twenty-six ship formation was perfect was that winning today’s battle wasn’t the point. He knew the Sivar ships were more dangerous than he was publicly giving them credit for, but his ships could take them at two-to-one odds even at close range.

  Scans of the system were updating Vigil’s flag-deck hologram as he was thinking, and they showed odds that were nowhere near that steep for the allied fleet. The planet was the focus of the military deployment in the system, and it looked like there were around twenty warships total in the system.

  “Connor, what have we got?” he asked his ops officer.

  “It’s looking like three battleships and eighteen escorts, sir,” the Commander replied. “Twenty-one ships to our twenty-six, but only three capital ships to our six.”

  The inverse of the odds he was prepared to fight at. Isaac smiled grimly.

  “We’ll wait here for ten minutes,” he ordered. “Once they move out towards us, we’ll deploy to meet them.”

  From five light-minutes out, ten minutes would give him time to see their initial response. If the locals wanted to talk to him, he’d reply to their hails, too.

  If they hadn’t offered unconditional surrender by the time he reached half a million kilometers, he had every intention of reducing the Governance’s fleets to debris and ashes.

  “All ships report fully ready and standing by for your orders,” Connor told him. “Any changes to the plan?”

  Isaac shook his head.

  “We haven’t fought a straight battle with these people yet,” he replied. “Watchtower’s clash with them suggests that their battleships’ beams aren’t to be sneered at, but they underestimated our defenses.

  “Let’s not return the favor. We engage at maximum range and we stay at maximum range until we either have a solid assessment of their abilities or they leave us without a choice.”

  “Do we really expect the latter, sir?” Connor asked.

  “I don’t know what to expect, Aloysius,” Isaac pointed out. “We have one engagement where our ship was more focused on getting the hell out than on getting decent reads on their weapons. We know those battleships are missile platforms, which means they’ve got less mass devoted to beams than we do.

  “Beyond that? I’m not dismissing them yet.”

  The time stamps told him that the Sivar fleet would have seen them now. It would be another five minutes before he saw how they reacted, but that was the nature of the game. His ships remained in the broad winged formation they’d jumped in, slowly dropping down the star’s gravity well to the planet.

  “And even if they are utterly outclassed, consider how badly outmatched we were by the first Matrix node we met,” Alstairs noted from the bridge. The Captain was probably giving them less than a tenth of his attention, but the conversation was relevant to him. “A single recon node kicked the shit out of our entire fleet and disabled Dante—but we took her down and it wasn’t that much later that we took out the sub-regional node that sent it.”

  “The Sivar are in much the same place we were then, yes,” Isaac agreed. “From the data we have, there’s nothing wrong with their weapons. Their weapon mix just assumes they can actually land missiles on their targets, which isn’t going to work on us.”

  And, if the Confederacy’s old unit design was anything to go by, quite possibly wouldn’t work on Sivar ships. The CSF had been able to shoot down a lot more missiles than any of its ships could deploy long before the Republic had stripped the missiles out of its ex-Confederacy ships.

  “Sir, we are now receiving lightspeed telemetry from when they’d have seen us,” Connor reported after a few moments of silence. “They, ah, didn’t do much.”

  “Nobody—not even Matrices—goes from zero to active counter-deployment in seconds, Commander,” Isaac pointed out. “Give me a timer, though. From the moment they saw us until they bring their engines online and validate our estimate of what ships are escorts.”

  The battleships were rather distinctive, but at five light-minutes, it was even theoretically possible that they’d missed one. The escorts, however, had low-enough power signatures that it was definitely possible some had been mistaken for freighters or vice versa.

  Once they deployed—if they deployed—that split would become clearer.

  “Regardless of that, we move out in one minute,” Isaac continued. “No adjustment to the clock. We deploy on the plan.”

  If he’d brought a Matrix fleet, five light-minutes would have taken less than an hour to travel. Of course, he couldn’t reasonably exercise command over a Matrix force himself. There was a shortage of oxygen on ships that had never been intended to carry organic passengers.

  Plus, he didn’t want this to go quickly. If nothing else, he needed them to report in to the Sivar capital that he was there—and if everything went to plan, the civilian government would be able to report in that the fleet had lost.

  “All ships’ engines online. Accelerations matched and we are moving in,” Connor reported. “No sign of response yet.”

  “They’ve had less than two minutes, Aloysius,” Isaac replied. “I won’t start implying utter incompetence until they hit at least three.”

  The Sivar fleet brought their engines online with an entire ten seconds to spare inside Isaac’s mental are you kidding me? line. They didn’t immediately thrust out to meet his fleet, though.

  “Looks like only a few dozen gravities,” Connor reported. “They’re maneuvering out of orbit and forming up, but they’re not coming out.”

  “Get me another deep scan of the orbitals,” Isaac ordered. “Do we have numbers on orbital forts?”

  “First sweeps didn’t suggest any significant numbers, but those are the only defenses I see,” his operations officer replied. “Any change to the plan?”

  “Get me that sensor data,” Isaac replied. “And ask me again in ten minutes.”

  Connor chuckled but he was already passing the orders.

  “We’ve confirmed the deployment of star-lane com drones,” he added after a few moments. “It looks like they were anticipating us trying to intercept them. They launched twenty-five of the things.”

  “How fast are they?” Isaac replied.

  “Bit better acceleration than our old missiles, but not by much,” Connor said. “I mean, if we wanted to intercept them…”

  The Admiral snorted. Fortitude, the other Republic ship he’d pulled from the main fleet, carried exactly one missile launcher. It was an extremely rapid-fire system loaded with Matrix-style reactionless-drive missiles, though, and the Sivar’s defenseless com drones would have been easy prey for the near-cee smart weapons.

  “Negative,” he replied. “But you knew that.”

  If they had to fight the Sivar in close to Sivar-One’s inhabited planet, he’d have to obviously let the second wave of com drones escape. He’d probably do that anyway.

  “Their accelerations are higher than Confed missiles?” he asked, curious.

  “The drones have about ten percent edge on the missiles we came through with,” Connor confirmed. “Better than I would have expected from their starship drives.”

  Isaac nodded absently as he pulled the data on the screens on his command seat. It looked like the bulky fusion engines the Sivar favored might make for better missile drives than his own impulse microthrusters.

  “Bake that into the tactical assumptions,” he ordered. “If their missiles have a twenty percent acceleration edge ov
er the CSF Rapier Twelves and the same flight endurance, what does their range look like?”

  “Just under a light-minute, sir,” Connor replied. He paused, shaking his head as he looked over at the chief petty officer running the numbers. “You double-checked this, Chief?”

  “Yes, sir. Seemed weird to me, too.”

  “We’re not used to fighting at missile ranges,” Isaac said. “We had a forty-light-second range envelope with our birds.”

  He’d have expected the Sivar to try and keep him out of their missile range from the planet.

  “Hashemi, any attempt to communicate from the locals?” he asked.

  “Negative, sir. Not even any bluster.”

  “Interesting,” Isaac murmured. “Well, time to up the verbal-bluster quotient of the star system. Stand by to record for transmission.”

  “Translation software is running,” Naveed Hashemi told him. “Video is live in three. Two. One. Live.”

  The recording suite could send a holographic image, but for this purpose, a video was easier to translate and transmit. Isaac faced the primary pickup and smiled.

  The Sivar probably wouldn’t pick up the menace in his expression, but he also doubted they’d misinterpret it as friendly.

  “I am Admiral Isaac Lestroud of the Exilium Space Fleet,” he told the camera levelly. “Your government has interned our diplomatic delegation, including our Foreign Minister.

  “The Republic has no choice but to regard this as an act of war. As such, I am ordered and authorized to seize control of this star system—and since my scans show that the native population are not Sivar, I somehow doubt I’ll be giving it back.

  “The only choice available to you is extremely straightforward: your space and ground forces can surrender, with an attendant promise of the safety and security of all Sivar personnel…or you can fight me.

  “In which case I will destroy your fleets, reduce your orbital defenses and shatter your ground forces. The choice is yours.”

  And for the first time Isaac could think of, he’d ordered the fabrication of the precision ground-attack munitions the Republic, at least, had never used. If he had to land EMC troops on a hostile planet, they’d be doing so with the kind of support that could take out a tank in the middle of a street without harming the building on either side—or level a city.

  He cut the recording and gestured for Hashemi to send it.

  “Let me know if they increase their acceleration,” he told Connor, turning his attention to his own formation.

  It was straightforward, though hopefully impressive to the Sivar. Six battlecruisers advanced in line abreast, ten thousand kilometers between them. Four “wings” of five strike cruisers each radiated out from the center of the line, putting ten escorts above and ten escorts below his heavies.

  The range was dropping quickly now. Matrices might have closed the range faster, but his fleet wasn’t slow by any means.

  “It looks like our friends are moving out, sir,” Connor reported. “All warships have brought their engines to higher energy levels. Battleships are stabilizing at…” He shook his head. “A little over half of our acceleration. From the energy signatures and the leakages I’m detecting, that might be the best they can do with their engines and thrust compensators.”

  “Let’s not assume that without more data,” Isaac replied. “How are we doing at getting tachyon com–equipped drones in close?”

  “They haven’t shot any down yet, but the drones aren’t that much faster than our ships,” the ops officer replied. “We’re only just starting to cross the one light-minute mark and get faster data from them than from the rest of the fleet.”

  “Keep at least ten percent at thirty light-seconds,” Isaac ordered. “Standard ratios for most other ranges, but I want you to put at least a dozen drones right down the heart of their formation.”

  “We’ll lose them,” Connor noted calmly. Even now, the tachyon communicators weren’t cheap or easy for the Republic to build. The miniaturized ones included in the drones cost more than the rest of the robotic spacecraft.

  The entire fleet he’d brought to Sivar space only had a hundred drones.

  “I know,” Isaac agreed. “And I understand the cost. But I want to know what they shoot them down with, Commander. What they have for close-range weapons and defenses is critical information.”

  “Understood. I’ll pass the orders.”

  The range was now barely three light-minutes, and the Sivar were finally coming out to meet them. The tactical analysis teams were hard at work, and the revised interception zone was already marked on the big hologram.

  “We’ll range on them twenty million kilometers from the planet,” Isaac said aloud. “If they’re assuming our missile range is about the same as theirs, that’s not an unreasonable low-range intercept. Especially if they think the main fight is going to be a missile fight.”

  “Should Fortitude demonstrate what Matrix missiles look like, sir?” Connor asked.

  “No,” Isaac said after a moment. “Tempting, but no. Let’s keep a few surprises in our back pocket.”

  Connor nodded.

  “Anything else we should hold back, sir?” he asked.

  “No,” Isaac repeated. “We’re not going to play the kind of games that get people on our side killed. Once we’re in beam range, it’s death ground. Only one fleet leaves intact and it will be us.”

  “Understood.”

  “Sir, we have a response coming from one of the battleships,” Hashemi reported. “We’re not close enough for a live channel, but if I relay you through the drones, I can cut the delay down to under ten seconds.”

  “Show me their message first,” Isaac replied. “Then I’ll decide whether I even want to talk to them.”

  The literally boneheaded image of a Sivar officer appeared in front of him. The stranger wore the same dark green hooded tunic as the images he’d seen of Commandant Ackahl, with similar though probably different gold iconography at the base of the hood that concealed his face.

  “I am Commandant-Key of War Dest,” the Sivar introduced himself—Isaac only knew the gender because Hashemi dropped an assessment of the body shape and voice with that conclusion onto his screen. Knowing that, though, he picked up the hint of a Sivar male’s facial horns inside the hood.

  “I am the direct sword of the Intendant of the Sivar, the voice of the Fates in this time, within the Sonbar System,” Dest continued. “His will with regards to your Republic and its allies is simple: you will surrender your systems, ships and technology to the Governance, and we will protect you from the creatures you fear.

  “The war you proclaim is of no threat to the Governance. We are far from intimidated by your toys. Lay down your arms and accept your place as tributaries of the Governance, and you will be protected as all others have been.”

  The image froze, the message over.

  “Range?” Isaac asked calmly.

  “One point two light-minutes,” Connor replied instantly. “Estimate fifteen minutes before they can attempt to engage with missiles. Our reactionless missiles will be in range in ten.”

  “I haven’t changed my mind on those,” Isaac told him. “There’ll be no response, Naveed. Let me know if we get any more messages—such as after we ignore his first missile salvo.”

  “Understood, Admiral.”

  “Oh, and Commander?” he asked, turning to look at Naveed. “ID the battleship that message came from. She’s our first target once we’re in range.”

  57

  “Huh. Either we underestimated their endurance or they’re expecting a bunch of unpowered nukes to be a noticeable threat.”

  Connor’s dry observation went unchallenged on Vigil’s flag deck as the data-analysis teams tore into the sensor results, dropping more information on the Sivar’s missile launch into the hologram as they worked.

  “Twenty-one ships launched two thousand missiles,” Isaac observed. “That’s not shabby for cramming launchers into
the hulls, especially given the performance parameters and what we think they get for efficiency with those engines.”

  The acceleration was even slightly higher than he’d projected based on the com drones. Even with that, the missiles had to have at least fifteen seconds’ more endurance than the Confederacy’s best.

  The reactionless missiles the Republic had built from Assini designs still outranged them, but the Sivar weapons were still impressive.

  And useless.

  “VK?” Isaac asked aloud. “Threat level?”

  “Sivar missiles will enter our defensive engagement perimeter at a velocity of just over eighty-two percent of lightspeed,” the AI replied. “Estimated closest approach is two hundred and fifty thousand plus/minus fifty thousand kilometers.”

  “Additional salvo is launching,” Connor reported. “Cycle time appears to be forty-eight seconds.”

  “Record everything,” Isaac ordered. An unnecessary order, but that was true of just about anything he could say. “Our close-approach probes?”

  “At six hundred thousand kilometers and closing at twenty percent of lightspeed,” Connor reported. “Ten seconds to closest approach.”

  Ignoring the oncoming missiles, Isaac’s attention was on the live sensor feed from the probes. If they managed to get in as close as the probes had been programmed to, they’d be able to read the names painted on the hulls.

  Assuming that the Sivar engaged in that kind of frivolity.

  “Drones at one light-second. Sivar missile defenses engaging,” Connor reported. Several seconds past in silence. “All drones destroyed. Closest approach was just under one hundred thousand kilometers.”

  “What did we get?” Isaac asked.

  “A lot,” the ops officer replied. “Some of it’s going to take a while to work out, but I think we got enough to flag most of the power generators on their ships. That seems…promising.”

  “Doesn’t it just?” Isaac murmured. “See if you can resolve that, Commander, then distribute it to the fleet. I’m not going to go out of my way to try and save these people, but I will use the most efficient takedowns we have.”