Smoke on the Wind

by Sean Benjamin

  ~ ~ ~

  Captain Uriah Farrango, commander of Appaloosa, read the updated plan as he sat in his command chair on the light cruiser’s bridge. He admired the aggressive attitude reflected in the course of action. He had been at the Hartley briefing and, despite the misgivings of most of his fellow ship captains, Farrango was impressed with Hawkins and trusted him. Although Farrango didn’t tell any of his companions, it was more than the Hartley meeting that won him over. Unlike all of the other Royal Navy ship captains who had been at the briefing, Farrango had done a tour in the Badlands. He had been XO in the light cruiser Armstrong under Nathan Kimble, part of Skyler Mallory’s Badlands squadron. He had fought in the Badlands campaign from the opening battle at Potenka to the end at the Nomad asteroid belt. He had seen Hawkins and his people in action and knew they weren’t strutting swashbucklers who survived on luck and Goth stupidity but were actually skilled space warriors with years of success to prove it. He thought Hawkins would do quite well here in this current war.

  Appaloosa’s race for the border and home port had been uneventful so far. Farrango’s six ships were at max sustained speed. Sensors remained clean of any contacts. Farrango knew not enough time had passed for the Rurik group to close on him. He thought they would appear in about nine hours if at all. He hoped they would. He didn’t want a large force of fifty enemy ships moving about while out of sensor contact.

  ~ ~ ~

  Admiral of the Third Rank Dabria Kasyanov walked around the flag bridge of the Paladin class battleship Chempion. The flag bridge on these older ships was small, so it was a short walk. She kept stopping at the sensor station to look over the operator’s shoulder. She knew it was unnecessary as the man would certainly report any contacts, but she couldn’t help herself. She looked briefly at the screens and resumed her walk. She wished she was down in the ship’s gym working up a sweat, but it would not do for her to be there if contact with the fleeing Zeke raiding party was made.

  Her force of fifty-two warships was headed by Chempion and a second battleship named Borets. With her ships, she could have conducted a wide sweep to find the enemy raiders. If she had found them deeper in Orion space, she could have used her superior numbers to cut off paths of withdrawal and forced the Zekes to fight, but that was not to be. Somehow the Zekes had figured out they had been found and ran before a net could be throw up between them and the border. She now depended on luck to help find them and bring them to battle. “Getting lucky” was never a good battle plan.

  The communications officer spoke up in an excited voice. “A transmission from the Delta early warning line. The sensors there have a contact.”

  “How long ago?” asked Kasyanov as she walked toward the man.

  He glanced down briefly at his screen and said, “Three hours, Admiral.”

  Kasyanov joined the comm officer and three of her staff moved to surround her as they watched the sensor records from three hours ago. A single group of several bogeys crossed the upper edge of the sensor screen and moved in a straight line for four minutes before disappearing from the screen edge.

  “Course is for the border,” said the communications officer.

  Kasyanov nodded and looked at her chief of staff. “How many ships do you estimate?”

  The man thought and shrugged. “I would say at least fifteen. The returns are too large and bunched together to make out single ships, but there are several there.”

  Kasyanov said, “I agree. They could be using noisemakers, but there are several ships for sure.” She paused and then added, “Regardless, we will pursue. If we get a few ships, it will be worth it. It beats sitting around Rurik. Estimate their course and speed and set up an intercept.” She resumed walking.

  Chapter 22

  Wilson’s destroyers slipped quietly through subspace as they closed on the Metal Moon. Crews went about their normal routine, but there was always an edge in the atmosphere. Everyone felt it, but nobody knew what it really was. The hair standing up on the back of the neck was part of it. A faint feeling of anxiety was also there. The imagination running a bit wild about what was waiting at the other end contributed to the unsettling. It was all that and more. And also less. Nobody knew why these things happened in subspace, but they always had occurred. The longer the subspace experience, the worse the feelings got.

  Much research had been done on this phenomenon, but the results were always inconclusive. Ships went subspace by generating a field around themselves and moved much like they were cocooned in their own bubble. Many people believed that to achieve that “invisibility,” the subspace ship actually did go “somewhere” but nobody knew where. After all, the ship could still be hit with ordnance, and the danger of collision with something in normal space was a real threat so the ship was “there,” but since it was invisible to the eye and sensors, it wasn’t there.

  Regardless, the crew should have been able to function normally in subspace but that had never been the case. There were always a few people who suffered no subspace effects at all. There were also a few people who couldn’t handle five minutes in subspace. Much like a fear of heights or of closed in spaces, these individuals could not be in subspace without a great, violent urge to be out of it. All navies recognized this and such people were never assigned to subspace-capable ships. Most sailors were not at either end of the scale but in the middle so they suffered mild headaches, stomach aches, insomnia or, simply, a prickly feeling of anxiety. Once back in regular space, they bounced back quickly. Of course, “quickly” is a relative term, but it becomes very important when someone is shooting at your ship immediately upon your return to normal space.

  Blondie had been in subspace many times in Predator with most of those times ending with the ship emerging and immediately fighting a battle. She always got slight headaches and the feeling like bugs were crawling on her. She accepted it as the price of doing business while also being glad Logan and his people were there. They made her feel less alone during this vulnerable time. Although she would never say it in front of her crew, twenty-four hours was a long time to be in subspace, and she didn’t enjoy it in the least. She had toured the ship at the beginning of the subspace period. Then she had stayed on the bridge with the lone exception of retiring to her stateroom for six hours of restless sleep. She returned to the bridge for three hours and toured the ship one more time. She ended her second tour of the ship back on the bridge. The combat crew was in place as the ship would surface in twenty minutes. She talked briefly with each crewmember as she had seen Raferty Hawkins do. She talked to Logan last just before he headed down to aft steering. There he would follow the battle and be ready to assume command if the bridge became a battle casualty. Blondie had felt a little guilty about summarily relieving Commander Lockwood as her XO, but now she was glad she had. She was much more comfortable with Logan as her backup and sounding board.

  She sat in her chair and fastened her personal breathing apparatus to her body as Logan moved beside her. She smiled at him. “Thanks for being here.”

  Logan shrugged with studied nonchalance. “No problem, Captain. I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

  “The battle or my first time in battle as a captain?” she asked in a light tone.

  “Both,” Logan answered instantly with a smile. He then added quietly, “You’re ready for this, and you will do fine.”

  “I hope so,” she said with a little doubt in her voice.

  He leaned toward her. “Captain Hawkins could have picked anyone, but he picked you. No way he does that unless he was absolutely sure you could do this. And me and all the other Flot 1 pirates are sure too.”

  She smiled in gratitude at him and said, “Thanks, XO.”

  He nodded and said, “Just telling the truth, Captain. That’s my job as XO, you know.” He turned away and said, “Well, I’m off to aft steering. Please ensure I have absolutely nothing to do for the entire battle.”

  “I’ll try,” she replied as he moved to the passageway to head
aft. She watched him go and suddenly realized she didn’t know if Logan was his first or last name. That bothered her for a second, and she vowed to find out after the fight. She then smiled to herself. If she was planning post-fight activities, that must mean they would survive. Blondie brought up three floating screens and check her comm links. Seventeen minutes to go.

  Chapter 23

  There were several portholes at all levels in the Metal Moon. A young man stood at one of them near the top of the Moon and watched the scene outside and the floating docks overhead. It was almost 0200 and very dark. There was some activity as yard tugs were always busy moving ships, people, or equipment. There were ships attached to the Moon being loaded and large lights blazed at two of the berths in the overhead floating docks as a light cruiser and destroyer were getting work done. It was about as quiet as it ever gets around the Moon, but war made for one long continuous workday here.

  The lone observer was known as Jordan to all the people who knew him here. He was referred to as Jordan the Spy by the people from the Badlands. He had grown up in Father Tom Stapleton’s travelling group after having been placed there as a baby. He had left the group as a teenager to make his own way in life but had maintained contact with Father Tom and with Raferty Hawkins’ group. He, like all the wanderers from the groups, filed reports with Baby Doll as he travelled. He ended up in the state-run merchant marine service in the Orion Confederation. He chafed under the many rules and restrictions and was ready to return to Aurora Empire space after one standard year of service that had seemed much longer. Then came an Orion governmental mandatory work restriction where people in critical jobs could not quit and could only transfer to other jobs after receiving official permission. Jordan was in such a job and continued in his billet while putting together a plan to desert. What stopped him from leaving was talk among the old hands on his merchant ship. The general view was that this type of government activity had always been a prelude to war in recent Orion history. Jordan listened quietly to the talk as crewmembers speculated on upcoming events. There were many different opinions, but nobody predicted war with the Aurora Empire.

  Jordan’s ship started seeing much more work in many new ports, including military spaceports previously off-limits to civilians. The Orion Confederation was gearing up for something big. Jordan realized he was in a unique position. He began sending many more reports to Baby Doll about his travels and observations. This was two months before the surprise attacks on the Aurora Empire. The reports reflected war preparations, but it was only clear what was coming a few scant days before the OrCon surprise attacks. Hawkins and his brain trust put the pieces together, but the time lag from OrCon space to the Badlands and then from the Badlands to the Aurora Empire precluded any warning from the pirates to the Zekes about what was coming.

  Since the war began, Jordan had kept up a steady flow of information and had been key to gathering intel for the attack on Murmansk. There were over a dozen operators within the Orion territories providing information to Flot 1 but none were better than Jordan.

  Now Jordan stood and waited for what was coming. Twenty-five hours prior, he had sent a burst transmission with the number of warships and commercial vessels in port and that there were no surprises waiting for the attackers. Now he wanted to see all his reports about the Moon bear fruit. He had not been briefed on what was coming. After all, he could be caught and tortured. However, he did have a general idea. A sneak attack on the Moon was a gutsy move, but he expected nothing less from Raferty Hawkins. He had never met him or any members of Flot 1, but Father Tom did tell him the story of Raferty’s mother, Aberdene, saving him by placing him in Father Tom’s group as a baby. For that action, Jordan would always support Aberdene’s son and his people. Also, in her messages, Baby Doll always made him feel like he was a member of Flot 1. He was grateful for that too. He liked belonging somewhere, even it was somewhere he had never been. He wanted to watch his comrades for a brief moment before taking an elevator deep into the Moon to ride out the attack.

  ~ ~ ~

  “They should be coming out at the Metal Moon…. right now.”

  Tactical spoke quietly as she looked up from her floating screen and its time hack. The words were easily heard on the silent flag bridge of Typhoon as their force closed on Rurik in subspace. Nobody acknowledged the remark, but most people shifted their bodies and looked intently at their own work in front of them. The Royal Navy sailors clearly did not want to dwell on the possibilities brought into play by that simple statement. Raferty did turn to look at her. She looked back with no expression and neither spoke. No words would help now. Everyone knew the risk. If his operational concept and her execution plan were wrong, there was nothing to be done now. Brother and sister were hardened space warriors. This was the time when most people would reflect on their plan and then imagine the worst-case consequences, but neither of these two vets would do that. People who let their imagination and self-doubts run wild at times like this did not last long as combat leaders. You did the best you could and you hoped it was enough. If it wasn’t enough, you or the people who worked for you paid the price for your incompetence or bad luck. That was the way it was, and adding a dose of imagination or self-doubt did not help the situation.

  Tactical moved on to the next topic. “Six and a half hours until we emerge at the mine web.” Their force had been in subspace for an hour and a half and continued to silently slide toward their objective.

  ~ ~ ~

  At exactly 0200 local time, two destroyer formations shimmered into normal space near the Metal Moon. The pirates were a tight grouping about four kilometers from the floating docks over the Moon. The Royal Navy ships were widely dispersed around the Moon.

  It took eight seconds of eternity to emerge from subspace. Ships were without shields or weapons during those long seconds. Sometimes that mattered a great deal. Sometimes, but not here and not now. The Orion Confederation may have been at war, but you would never know it from the lack of alertness within the Metal Moon spaceport. All defensive weapons were in lockout mode so required human permission to fire. The on-duty personnel were bored and sleepy while paying scant attention to their sensors. They all knew there would never be an attack on the Metal Moon unless the Orion Confederation was losing the war and the enemy was driving toward the home planet. The situation around the Metal Moon and Zavodila was always loose and easy. Tonight, that attitude would contribute to the defeat the Orion Confederation would suffer here.

  Killian O’Hare sat back in her chair and smiled. God, she loved slackers. It made her job so much easier. As soon as every pirate ship cleared subspace, they immediately closed ranks and Nemesis lead the formation to the docks above the Metal Moon as all pirate ships began to fire ordnance from all weapons systems. Each pirate ship had sixteen one-shot launchers bolted on their hulls facing forward, and these fired at six distant floaters that were part of the defense for the planet of Zavodila but were within range to support the Metal Moon. It would take three minutes to get there, but it would also take three minutes for return fire from those floaters to threaten the pirates. O’Hare was not worried about return fire yet. It would take time for the sleepy defenders on the planet to assess the situation and then react to it. Other missile launchers fired at the defensive floaters around the Moon and at ships scattered around the spaceport but not tied to any structure. The majority of these floating ships were commercial vessels and not a threat, but they could get underway in a short period of time so had to be neutralized first. Besides all that, they were great targets. Guns started hitting all the ships in the floating docks as Flot 1 came to a stop immediately over them. The two OrCon warships lit by work lights took a quick pounding. All ship lasers were aimed at the Metal Moon and the enemy ships attached there. Lasers were worthless against fast-moving targets as they needed time to burn through armored hulls. Now they would have that time. Lasers were directed at the engines of ships berthed at the Moon. When the Moon’s garrison sta
rted returning fire from their defensive positions at each of the Moon’s poles and from scattered positions throughout the Moon, the lasers would switch to those defensive positions once they were detected.

  The enemy ships in the floating docks were quickly hammered into scrap. Eight warships and twenty-one commercial ships of various types were put out of action. O’Hare’s ships hovered close above the shattered dock structure using the facility for cover from the Moon’s floaters and other defenses that would engage the invaders once they shook off their stupor and began defending their port.

  The Royal Navy destroyers emerged in a ragged formation spread out around the Moon. The Zekes slowly began moving toward the Moon as getting in tight on that globe would make enemy targeting very difficult. It was clear the subspace trip had taken the edge off the crews for the moment, but there was nothing that could be done for that. O’Hare noticed and had her unit’s guns and missiles switched to hitting the floaters guarding the Moon to provide cover for the Zekes.

  Blondie scanned the available hiding places close to the Moon as Jib staggered drunkenly toward the huge metal globe. The helmsman was overcorrecting as he closed on his destination. Blondie ignored it as she picked out a spot for her ship. “Between the carrier and destroyer on the equator,” she ordered and then addressed her OpsO. “Get those damn floaters under missile fire!” She turned to her gunner. “Shoot at the floaters nearest to us.” Both men did as ordered. Missiles flew at nearby floaters and scored hits on two of them, but the guns were late in firing and the gunner had to walk the rounds onto target. Jib started taking gunfire on her shields as the delay in gun hits allowed the nearest enemy floaters to score first. Then thirteen missiles passed over Jib and turned three floaters into junk. Blondie didn’t have to expand the field of view on her cameras to know they were pirate missiles.