by Kali Altsoba
The spin presses survivors fantastically hard against bulkheads, sticking them to cabin walls and ceilings and splaying them down on carbon-fiber decks as rotation speed increases. Some are impaled on jutting equipment as the hulk plunges into Genève’s upper atmosphere, heating rapidly as it descends. Mercifully, nearly all still onboard black out from crushing G-forces before the wreckage turns dull orange-red, then blue then white hot with friction heat.
Fifty-eight yawl pods spin away from the wreck even as the exterior turns orange, Most are later found empty, churned out by auto-deploy systems whose overrides burned away. Only a handful of crew survive in a few pods that settle into low orbit. The bumbling hulk of Magni makes an impressive meteor through the day sky before it digs a sizeable crater out of a wide open pasture it ploughs and gouges out, smacking to ground half-way up the austral continent.
KG Dagr, the sole undamaged cruiser in the Kaigun patrol, goes into Genève orbit in order to send out its medical shuttles and yawls filled with engineers to lend aid to its stricken sister ships, Baldr and Loki. Its daisa orders grappling lines shot into the exposed superstructure of Loki, the more badly damaged warship, to arrest a drift into a fatally low orbit and a burn out.
That leaves only the eight Zerstörers tearing after Alpha. Three newer ships with faster in-system thrusters pull ahead of the other five. They’re gaining steadily on the slower Krevan flotilla, for even with Argos-built light cruiser boosters on either side of the main engines the civilian limits of Warsaw and Jutlandia constrain their captains from using maximum power. With over four hours to go before Alpha reaches the blue planet Wasp 2B, slowly growing from a dot to a disk in ships’ Main Scuttles, the chasing hounds are sure to catch the running rabbit.
The converted troopships are a lot slower than Toruń Shipyard engineers or their crews and captains hoped. Warning clarions are clanging in Engine Rooms and flashing bright on both Bridges well before Magda orders them to Reduce Speed. That forces all the escorts to slow as well. Alpha must proceed at best speed of its two clumsiest, slowest and most vulnerable ships. It was always a weak point in the escape plan, which requires the escorts to convoy slow liners.
***
Three hours later it looks likely to become a fatal flaw. Zerstörers are closing the time-to-intercept gap gained over Genève. It’s down to just half-a-minute, and Alpha is shedding seconds of relative advantage with each real five minutes that passes as it brakes for the swing around the blue giant and the last dash to the farside L2, and whatever enemy is waiting there.
Émile’s normally clear eyes are changing to gun-metal gray, narrowing and focusing on his nav displays as he calculates the chase gap and the rate at which it’s closing. Magda first noticed this, that his eyes change color in a crisis, back at the fight for the Genèven moons. She thought they must be artificial, but was surprised to later discover that he still has natural vision.
“They’re closing. There’s no way to outrun the front three, though we can stay ahead of their back five. They’ll catch us on the other side of the Wasp, before we get to the jump point.”
“If there are any pickets there, captain, and there are sure to be picket ships, we’ll be caught between two hostile forces.”
“We’ll have to fight. Mr. Fontaine. On one side or the other, here short of our goal or on the farside of the Wasp. The numbers are against us.”
“Aye captain. Well, we’ve done it before, at the inner moons.”
‘That was Émile’s finest hour, when his innovative tactics allowed us to take out a raft of Kaigun frigates that got too far ahead of their capital ships. We still lost the bigger battle, but they felt the sting in our tail at least. But I don’t think he’s boasting. Just stating facts.’
“What are your orders, captain?”
“We can’t fight with fat troopships waddling along inside our protective cone. They’re the priority. Nothing else matters, but they’ll inhibit our warships too much if we have to stay so close. We’ll be giving away any advantage of position and make Alpha a concentrated target.”
“I agree, ma’am. We have to fight, but we can’t.”
“We must. So what do you recommend, Mr. Fontaine?”
She’s startled to see him stumped, for once.
“It’s hard to see a way...”
“Think harder, XO.”
“We have to reduce their numbers, even out the odds somehow. But I’m not sure...”
“I am. Alright, Mr. Fontaine, back to your station. I’ve made my decision.”
At 13.5 million klics from the farside L2, Magda turns on the All-Ships com-link to split the escorts into Alpha and Beta sub-flotillas. Five ships of the original nine will continue around the Wasp and attempt an immediate hot-bohr out of Genève system. Four of the destroyers will turn and block or drive off the pursuit, or be wrecked trying. Her words go out from Resolve.
“Asimov and Tyco Brae will stay with Resolve in a reduced Alpha protection group. Our ruling task remains safe convoy of Warsaw and Jutlandia to the L2. We’ll hold this course.”
“Guépard, Resolute, Le Terrible and Triomphant are designated as Beta strike force. They’ll turn to hold off the pursuit, allowing the troopships to escape.”
The announcement isn’t supposed to be made to all crews and passengers, since she first hand-signaled to her Coms duty officer to switch to Bridge-to-Bridge secure. He missed her quick gesture, so everyone on all nine ships hears the next far too brutally honest exchange.
“The troopships can’t outrun the lead Zerstörers and are too vulnerable to expose in an all-ships action. Enemy captains will gun for them above all other targets. The reduced escort designated Alpha will have to handle whatever’s waiting to stop us at the bohr-zone. Confirm understanding.”
“Understood, ma’am.” All the Alpha captains call it in.
“To the four Beta captains, I need you to force a delay in the pursuit while Alpha tries to get away. A few minutes is all we need, even just one. Buy us whatever time you can.”
“Orders received and accepted.”
It’s Captain Rutger Metsalaer on the Guépard. Already, the four Beta destroyers are pulling apart from Alpha, readying for a wide looping turn back.
“Captain Archambault, you will lead Beta from its newly designated flag, Le Terrible.”
“Tres bon, capitaine. Be assured that we will hold off the pursuit.”
“Captain Archambault, your task will be ... François, please forgive me ... Pardoner moi, mon ami, mais c’est necessaire.”
She knows what she’s asking her old friend to do. So does he.
“C’est rien, mon cher ami Magda.”
“Just delay them, François. That’s all I need.”
“We’ll give Alpha all the time it needs,” he boasts, “by any and all means necessary.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘any and all means’? I don’t need faux heroics, François.”
Archambault goes too far, as he tends to do, shocking the listening crews and tens of thousands of fighters crammed into nine small ships with enemy before and behind them.
”We’ll ram the bâtards, if we must.”
***
Listening below decks Jan balls his fists until his nails cut into his palms.
‘Is it really as bad as that? Will he ram! He can’t mean it? There are 3,000 of my fighters onboard! Was all this for nothing? He can’t ram, especially not with the Resolute!’
Zofia is on Resolute, a thought that makes him crazed. He leaps up to pace in the space between the wall bunks. Samara jumps down from the flat bench, too, and starts to bark at Jan.
A midshipman yells: “Lie da fuk back down an’ strap in! ‘Tings are ‘bout to get sparky and ya must be see-cured and out of da fukin’ way.”
Jan tries to glare the man down but he has no command authority here and so backs off. He regains self-control and climbs back onto the pine bunk. Samara leaps up, too.
“And shut up dat bloody dog, or I
’ll shoot it!”
Jan pulls a wool blanket over Samara’s head to shut her up. She starts to wrestle with it and him playfully, biting at his hands through coarse wool.
Jan fears for thousands of his fighters jammed into every free nook on the warships about to do battle. He knows that Zofia is headed into mortal danger that her skill can’t help.
He’s totally powerless, helpless to himself or to her. With no control over what happens next. He only knows that he and Zofia are literally moving in opposite directions.
‘Will either of us survive? Will I ever see her again? Will I have a chance to say how wrong I was, that she was right, that we must be together for whatever time we each have left?’
***
“Merde!”
Magda realizes the coms error and gives a furious look to the inexperienced young officer responsible. Émile moves to shut the channel down but she waves him off. She needs to leave it open now, to reassure everyone as she issues strict orders to all Beta captains.
‘It’s that or risk pandemonium below decks.’
“That’s enough of your sea-salt, Archambault! I only need Beta to slow down the three leading Zerstörers. There’ll be no ramming! And just deal with the first three, leave the rest and get the hell out of there. The five trail Zs are too far back to catch us before we make the L2.”
“Understood. Figure of speech, just heat of the moment. Pardon.”
“For Toruń! For Genève!”
It’s Captain Rutger Metsalaer breaking into the coms.
‘Not good. Rutger is too boyish, too eager for this hard fight to start.’
Magda knows that you fight with who and what you have in the moment, to get to the next moment. After battle you can make chastisements of the living and apologies to the dead.
“Belay that talk!” Magda barks it to all her captains.
“Once Alpha is away from the pursuit Beta is ordered to disengage contact with all enemy and break away. Then get to any open LP. Scatter if you have to, captains, just get your ships out of this system any which way you can.”
“I repeat, Captain Metsalaer, your orders are to disengage once the primary mission goal of Alpha protection is accomplished. All captains must and will act in accord with the wishes and orders of General Constance and the War Government. We must live or Krevo will die.”
“Archambault here. I’ll get Beta away, Magda. I promise.”
“No more promises! And no useless heroics, François. Just do your job.”
“Yes, ma’am. Priority is delay, then escape. I’ve taken your orders on board, capitaine.”
He realizes for the first time that his voice has been reaching everyone in the flotilla. He regrets that. Yet both Archambault and Aklyan know that the odds will be near-impossible if the five trailing Zerstörers catch up to join the fight with Beta. Or if Alpha is too much delayed by whatever is waiting at the LP. Somebody ramming someone might just be necessary after all.
‘Just don’t say it!’
“Metsalaer here. Captain Aklyan, ummm, sorry ma’am.”
“Don’t apologize, captains. Enough promises and speeches and apologies! Just take care of your ships and cargos. Get them out of Genève system.”
She blinks off the all-ships link.
An immense cold giant is growing fast in the Main Scuttles of all five Alpha ships with every passing second. Already, they’re streaking across its face, heading around its blue horizon to reach the leeward L2, thence to bohr-out of Genève system. Or into a major fight at the LP.
The same image grows smaller in the rear scuttles and mass sensors of four Beta ships also on the planet’s windward side, but already looping back to fight the pursuing Zerstörers.
Two directions.
Two solitudes.
Two choices.
Two fates.
Magda’s tone softens as she turns on the captains-only link.
“Find a way to delay the bâtards, François. Once Alpha’s away you can scatter or take Beta to the L4 or L5. Whatever route’s still open. Just get out of this burning house.”
Tick. Already there’s a one-second relativistic delay in arrival of the ship-to-ship coms by point-to-point laser, as distance spreads between the two halves of the original Alpha flotilla.
Tock. “Aye, I’ll get them out ma’am.”
Tick, tock. “Any which way you can, François. And as fast as you can. We’ll rendezvous at the sanctuary. Acknowledge.”
Tick, tock. “Yes ma’am. Understood and acknowledged. Minimal engagement rules. Just slow the huora down long enough for you to clear Alpha to the LP then burn out of the system.”
Tick, tock, tick. Three seconds for the targeted-laser to arrive, with ships racing in opposite directions. Ignoring the delay and profanity, Magda passes on a last caution.
“Kinetics only. At extreme prow-to-prow intersection velocities, all your missiles and plasma cannon, even lasers, will be nearly useless. Theirs too. Acknowledge.”
Tick, tock, tick, tick. “Check. Hard munitions only.”
Tick, tock, tick, tick, tock. “Anon, et bon chance, François. Good luck captains.”
She says it as Alpha leaves the windward side and the cold blue planet’s curving mass blocks further line-of-sight laser transmissions between the increasingly separated squadrons.
Tick, tock, tick, tick, tock, tock. “Au revoir, Magda. Archambault on Le Terrible out.”
She never hears him. She’s gone.
There are no KRN or civilian relay-sats parked in the Wasp’s ambit that she can access to bounce a light-coms beam around the planet’s broad horizon. Well there are, but they’ve been taken and recoded by the Kaigun. This is the last message Magda Aklyan will hear from Beta before Alpha reaches the L2 jump zone, where she’ll find more than enough trouble of her own.
***
Back on Genève many brave men and women are dying in great numbers outside and all around the berm. Yet one is uniquely alone, battered and bone-broken, burned and bleeding.
His cell smells of beatings, burned flesh and piss. Of stale water, black bread and melon rinds left over from a prior prisoner’s last meal, before her execution for ‘banditry.’
He knows it’s over for him. Knew it before the first interrogation when they took his fingernails, one by one, with pliers. He held tight to his training through their worst tortures for another hour, then another and another.
Only after he knew they thought he was broken did he pretend to break. He gave them a little truth wrapped inside believable lies about an escape plan. He told them all about Alpha, every single true detail he knew. Except when and where it was really going.
At last he hears what he willed himself to wait for, to stay alive for. He listens to naval guns cut a path to orbit for the escaping troopships and escorts of Alpha, knowing also that as he lies in pools of his own blood and urine his general is fighting to her own death at the Gate.
He’s revived by his torturers so they can cut, beat and burn him some more. This time not asking questions, just furious that the escape flotilla left a day before he said and didn’t go where he told them it would. When they’re done, he’s dumped back in his cell to await more hard sessions, then a truly gory public execution meant as a warning to all occupied Genève.
Gravel
Distance between the onrushing Zerstörers closes rapidly as Beta comes out of its loop and the Krevans shift from a ‘finger-four’ formation into two ‘top covers.’ Four ships split into pairs, looping up-and-back in a graceful 180˚ turn. Guépard and Resolute bank tightly starboard while Le Terrible and Triomphant bank to port, opening a clear middle-gap between the pairs.
It’s into that narrow gap that Archambault intends to funnel three oncoming ships, late-model Zerstörers closing fast on Beta with highly aggressive intention. The maneuver also gives him a shoot-and-scoot angled advantage over the trio of approaching warships. On his range-and-attitude monitor they’re sill in a standard and very conserv
ative ‘vic’ formation.
‘It’s old textbook stuff from the Kaigun, just as Magda predicted. Let’s hope they stick to it for one more minute.’
Once all seven ships are inside effective shooting range the fight will be quick and sharp. Neither side can lock onto such fast-moving targets, not with forward fire controls, not given combined approach velocities that are already creating small relativistic effects that trick AI-targeting and confuse Bridge vidscreens and navigation and weapons systems.