Libor: Katana Krieger #2

by Bill Robinson

  "Skipper, seven vessels accelerating on station vector 276, distance 245 million klicks."

  "Copy, Mr. McAdams. Identification?"

  "Working."

  I get back to the task at hand. The assault boat is ready to detach.

  "Lieutenant Palmer, go in armed. Do not assume they are friendly regardless of how many eyes they have."

  "Aye, sir."

  "Mr. Belanger, release docking clamps."

  "Docking clamps, aye."

  The assault ship moves the 100 meters to the balloon. Every ship has them, compact balloons that don't take up much space or add much weight, but have enough built in life support to keep a crew alive for three or four days. When disaster strikes, you inflate it, jump inside, and wait. This is definitely a military balloon, though we know that from markings. For some reason it's not using its disaster beacon.

  Smooth transfer, I watch from Tony's cam as he enters the 25 man balloon. At first glance, it's empty, but there's quick sound and four men emerge from hiding.

  "Stop." Tony using his command voice. He and three other Marines are in the space, in armor, with weapons drawn. "Identify yourselves."

  They go in order from left to right.

  "Lieutenant Chuck Reed, pilot, USS Samar." "Sergeant Oscar Marinaro." "Seaman First Class Ed Foreman, RISTA." "Petty Officer Kenny Lamonica, engineering."

  "Tony," I have a bad feeling, "get the Lieutenant to give me the 10 second sit rep please."

  Tony points at Reed, you really can't make eye contact when you're in battle armor, and relays my request.

  "The Captain wants a 10 second sit rep. You drew the short straw."

  Reed doesn't know where to look, except at Tony, somehow not registering that he's on camera.

  "Admiral Sutherland sent Lee here to check things out. When she failed to report back, we jumped Hornet, Samar, and Atahualpa in together. Samar lost all power seconds after we arrived, there was an explosion that ripped engineering to bits before we could react. Decompression alarms sounded, Commander Bolton ordered everyone to abandon ship. Foreman and I were in the aft couches on the bridge. We got out just as a massive explosion forward ripped the bridge apart. Marinaro was guarding the bridge hatch. We found Lamonica in the passageway, made it to the deck 1 balloon, waited as long as we could, then got out. Samar exploded a couple minutes later, last we saw one ship was leaving at high speed being pursued by four armed vessels, the other appeared powered down."

  He stops. Tony waits. I speak.

  "Tony, get them to Yorktown, but under no circumstances leave them unguarded until they've passed a drug test. Not even a stop at the head. Use whatever force is necessary."

  "Ooh Rah, Captain."

  Shelby gets on the private line.

  "Something I missed?"

  "Fool me once, Shel, not again. What was Lamonica doing in the passageway? Maybe he knew not to be in engineering."

  "Aye."

  We follow Tony's cam as they get back aboard and he ushers them to sickbay. Two Marines go in, two stand guard at the hatch. I get back to work.

  "Courtney, update me on the ships."

  "Skipper, likely Hornet with four mid-sized ships, possibly Fitzgerald class, and two of our old friends the Orion class in pursuit. Course information on the tactical display. The Fitz's were here at the base, the two Orion's were down range, would have kept the Admiral from going sunward."

  I switch my left screen to tactical, put the nav computer on the right. Takes me 15 minutes to double check my math.

  "Mr. Garcia, course information on your screen. Double check my math, then let's roll, five minutes."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  Tony interrupts.

  "Sir, the doctor reports Petty Officer Lamonica is drugged. We had to hold him down to take blood, he didn't hide it well."

  "As expected, Lieutenant. Lock him up. Tell him that if he gives you any trouble, I will personally throw him out the airlock, but if he's a good boy, we'll have the doc keep him alive."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Oh, and the sergeant is yours. Tell the other two to report to the bridge."

  "Yes, sir."

  I message Bonilovich to work with Tony.

  Acceleration horns sound, five minutes. Garcia must like my course. I get back with Courtney.

  "Mr. McAdams, where do you think the Admiral is going?"

  She laughs, a professional laugh.

  "Skipper, I'd say he's headed toward the second most dense cluster of rocks and dust in the system, after the one we're in. If he can't jump, it's the best place to turn and fight."

  Exactly what I saw. Six on one is still not a fair fight, but I'm planning on evening the odds a little.

  "Any idea where Lee and Atahualpa are?"

  "No, sir. There's not enough debris here for two destroyers, much less three."

  "Keep looking. Let me know."

  "Aye."

  We're joined by the two from Samar, who stand in free fall attention next to my couch. I don't let them introduce themselves again, it's obvious who they are, I stop Reed before he starts.

  "Mr. Reed, you belong to Lieutenant Garcia, she's a little busy right now, grab an empty couch and check in. Mr. Foreman, you belong to Lieutenant McAdams, also rather busy this instant. Strap yourself in and she'll let you know what she needs from you."

  They respond with the requisite ayes and float off, we're just over a minute before we move.

  Admiral Sutherland is 27 hours and 42 minutes from the point at which I would stop engines, turn, and put my broadside on the enemy to live or die with my gunners. I want surprise given the numbers difference, so I'm gambling that the Admiral and I think alike. Garcia's forefinger stabs onto her screen, and Yorktown pivots toward the sun, racing inbound, pushing us back into our couches. In 27 hours and 40 minutes, we will be standing at his side.

  Chapter 30

  "Mr. Belanger, open outer doors, all lasers, missile tubes three through eight. All cannons hot. Warm up the nukes. CWS active."

  "All cannons report ready, tubes three through eight report ready. Close in weapons system on line." I wish we had the old folks on the bridge, old in original Yorktown. There's obviously something still going on, something I recognized a while ago, but failed to deal with. Belanger is assigned to the bridge 24/7, never to engineering.

  "Mr. McAdams, the instant we're in, target all enemy ships, prepare to fire missiles on my command. Cannons free, fire at will."

  "Aye, Skipper, I have missiles, target on entry, Marines have the cannons, weapons free."

  "Mr. Perez, establish contact with Hornet immediately upon our arrival."

  "Aye."

  "Mr. Garcia, jump authorized."

  I don't run through the double checks on jump coordinates, I simply reach out and hit the key.

  "Affirmative, jump authorized, 92 seconds."

  We've programmed the jump to put us parallel with Hornet, running at the same velocity. The engines spool up to give us 4.58 gees, what our instruments tell us the destroyer is doing. They must be down an engine, maybe two. We'll be in a dust cloud two minutes after jump, the enemy on our heals.

  McAdams' voice is in the background, giving instructions to her gunners. You can almost feel the countdown in your blood, a couple beats passing through your veins for each second that goes away.

  "Ten seconds.... Five.... Jump...."

  One second our screens are full of boiling sun, the next they show us nothing but black. The attack computers catch up more quickly than I can get the words out, Hornet off to our starboard, a six pack of enemies on her tail. Her engines are off, she's rotating to bring guns to bear. I miss timed the jump.

  "Mr. Garcia, engines to standby, rotate 90 degrees to port."

  Courtney starts in. "Skipper, missiles lo..."

  She doesn't get the sentence finished, we're slammed hard in our behind, something we've felt before, a 42 inch laser blast. I don't wait for her to start over.

  "All missiles f
ire!"

  I wait for the recoil as the weapons fire, but there is none.

  "Main targeting computers rebooting. Ten seconds."

  We could be dead long before then.

  "Maximum thrust, all engines, bring us around 70 degrees to port, take us straight at them. All cannons free, continuous fire."

  I get 400 ayes in my ears and a few Ooh Rahs which have to be the Marines. I am instantly back to weighing 1,000 pounds, seems almost my normal weight these days.

  "Mr. Belanger, CWS sticks three and four, radar guidance, fire!"

  "Sir, we're out of range."

  "Fire! Now!"

  "Sir, they'll never..."

  I don't let him finish.

  "Mr. McAdams, CWS sticks three and four, fire! Mr. Belanger, you are relieved."

  Courtney heard and knew what was coming, the mid-range missiles in those sticks fly from Yorktown before I finish the sentence. We close rapidly, almost as rapidly as our missiles, on the six ships. The enemy ships have no cannons in their noses, we have one in ours that's not terribly effective against their hull coating, but it will keep them honest, and do them serious damage if they point a gun at us. The only weak spot in their armor is that those 42 inch cannons have to open up to fire, bullseyes for our gunners.

  "We're going down the middle, all cannons, port and starboard, continuous fire on anything that's still moving."

  Another round of Ooh's and Ayes.

  They expected us to run away, they expected anything but me driving Yorktown straight at them and into Hornet's firing solution. I assume the Admiral will forgive me if I live.

  One of the Orions pivots, our gunners see it and it takes a withering fire into it's cannon slots. The gigantic aft and middle cannons explode outward, but Yorktown shudders, bounces to port, spins 30 degrees before Garcia stabilizes us. The forward cannon got us.

  "Skipper, missiles back on line." Courtney doing five things at once.

  "Affirmative, hold fire for the close in weapons."

  The Daggers are 10 seconds out, we're another 10 behind. If we fire now we might be wasting the nukes on dead ships, or we might be caught in the middle of our own explosion.

  Yorktown jumps 20 meters starboard, the bridge lights go out, flicker to emergency, then slowly reset. My screens stayed up, and I watch with delight as four of the Daggers plunge into enemy ships, three Fitz's and an Orion. The three Fitz's go dead, no power, the Orion is split in two, the aft section still registering power, but no control.

  Shelby interrupts my celebration with her report. "Four hull punctures, no decompression, cannons three, four and six inoperative. Tally Ho from Hornet, Admiral Sutherland coming in on our eight."

  "Continuous fire all cannons, Mr. McAdams, put a nuke into that Orion."

  "Aye, Skipper, firing."

  This time, we feel the missile leave it's tube, then watch in frustration as the Orion takes it out with a well placed laser shot.

  "Starboard cannons focus on the Orion. Mr. Garcia, engines to standby, combat turn 180 degrees, take us back, full thrust. Mr. McAdams, program tube four, take it below the system plane and back at that Orion's keel."

  We're passed through them, all six enemy, four down and two alive, now on our six. We'll send another nuke, the long way around.

  "Captain," it's Manuel, "Hornet engaged with the Fitz."

  I look at my tactical screen, momentarily lose focus as we make the combat turn and all the blood in my body flies to the starboard side of my head, then splashes against the back of my head as the engines crush us into our couches.

  Admiral Sutherland has pulled a Horatio Nelson, he's a few meters off the enemy ship, exchanging fire at point blank range. That close, if the Fitz is coated with the magic stuff, Hornet won't last five seconds. If it's not, the faster guns win, and the Navy always is quicker.

  I hear a giant Ooh Rah from across the bridge, check quickly on our Orion. The Marines have taken out all six cannons, she's defenseless. I could call back the nuke, but that thought goes away almost before it's thought.

  On visual I see Hornet end the Fitz, a ball of red and orange replacing the grey hull, followed mere seconds later by the giant white whale of an Orion vaporized in the brighter white flash of a 30 megaton nuke.

  "Mr. Garcia, rendevous with Hornet."

  "Aye, Skipper."

  I feel Yorktown rotate, the engines spooling up briefly to slow us down, while listening in as Shelby manages the damage control teams. Then I remember I have business to do.

  "Mr. Belanger, you are confined to quarters. Leave the bridge."

  "Aye, sir."

  My fault, I let other concerns outweigh ship's business. Another lesson learned.

  We park 100 meters off Hornet's port side, ready one of the LS boats to take me over.

  "Mr. Rains, Mr. McAdams, with me. Mr. Perez, you have the ship."

  I may have screwed up with Belanger, but I'm going to fix Rains.

  The three of us load into the boat built for 25, the Marine aviators are smooth as silk over and docked. There's a Commander waiting for us as we disembark. We exchange salutes, then handshakes.

  "Captain Krieger, Commander Robert Bennett, commanding Hornet, my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Michael Smith. The Admiral is waiting on the bridge."

  "Commander. Lieutenant Commander Jacob Rains, second officer, Lieutenant Courtney McAdams, RISTA."

  Yorktown is built on a destroyer frame with 18 cannons, 24 ballistic missiles, and a Marine detachment, while the destroyer has 44 smaller laser cannons, no missiles or Marines. We docked on deck one, a storage space on both ship types, and float down to the bridge on three. The Admiral is waiting.

  I snap to attention, everyone else behind me, give my best salute.

  "Captain Krieger, Lieutenant Commander Rains, Lieutenant McAdams, reporting on board."

  "At ease Captain. I'm not sure how you showed up, but I'm damn glad you did. Is the Senator with you?"

  "Admiral, I suggest we move somewhere a little more private before we go through the details."

  We're floating in the aft portion of the bridge, couch layout much different than my frigate, I'm sure for the Admiral and his staff. The Hornet commanders, the Admiral and two Captains are in a large semi-circle, me and mine in a smaller semi, not finishing the whole circle, leaving the hatchway clear. There are a dozen bridge crew within earshot.

  Commander Bennett points to his left.

  "My ready room should suffice."

  I start to turn, something pulls at me in my peripheral vision, can't make it out until McAdams yells.

  "Grenade!"

  Chapter 31

  I see it all in slow motion. The devil in a four inch black sphere, standard issue Marine grenade. It flies in between Bennett and Smith, neither of them recognizing it until it's too late, their hands grasping for it after it has flown by.

  The Prince of Death, enough explosive to kill everyone on the bridge, three arms lengths in front of me.

  Then someone moves, the person I would have least expected. Shy as always, he'd shifted out of the circle, placed his back to a couch, trying to be invisible. Yet, of all of us, he alone acted.

  I can see, clear as the sharpest video on the widest screen, his body coil and push off from the titanium frame, his hand reach out, grab Satan himself and clutch it to his chest as he rockets out the open hatch into the passageway.

  I get out a "NO!" and try to catch him, but floating in midair with nothing to use for leverage, my hands grasp only oxygen and my body rotates forward out of control.

  The concussion reaches us, throws us all toward the bow, crashing into couches and grabbing on for all we're worth. Hints of red mist cloud the hatch, and sneak onto the bridge.

  I grab the inside middle couch, stabilize myself. I can see Bennett and Smith holding on to other couches, already on their comm. I get onto mine, touching the mic on my collar.

  "Shelby! Get Tony and his team into the assault boat and over here on the
double, armed but no armor. Have them bring the doctor, set up for drug testing."

  "Katana, what's going on?"

  "Not now, get rolling, we need the Marines. All the Marines."

  "Aye."