“Get forward supply dumps in place at the least,” Fengzi replied. “We can start that now. If we can, find gas giants we can use for fuel supply.”
“Which means the reconnaissance ships will have to perform a more generalised survey of the entire region,” Wingate added, as he began to take notes.
The Commodore was forgotten as the three officers began to brainstorm.
“One of the problems we’ll have to face is that we’ll be pressing them back on their own supply lines for the first time,” Lewis said during a pause.
The meeting had been going on for several hours. Staff officers had been called in and sent out for information while Wingate had departed to drum up information, leaving the commanders of the Home and Second Fleets to continue. Cold, forgotten mugs of tea and coffee were scattered across the table. They were making steady progress in identifying potential problems. Solutions would take longer.
“What are you thinking?” Fengzi asked.
“That we’ll be a lot closer to their worlds than ours,” Lewis replied, “and closer to whatever units they retain there.”
“A home fleet?”
“Or fleets. We only have one really critical world to defend and in peacetime at least a third of our fleet is based here. They have a dozen. Based on the historical information, I can’t see the Nameless leaving their worlds undefended.”
Lewis paused to consider the map again.
“With the losses they took during the siege, I think they’ve had to feed forward at least some units to maintain a presence on the front.”
“Definitely,” Fengzi agreed. “There were at least six heavy units that weren’t I.D’d before the siege, but have been seen since. You think there are more?”
“I’d bet my pension, and yours, on it,” Lewis replied. “The problem with an assault on the Spur is that it is close enough for the Nameless to commit their home fleet to the fighting without heavy logistical support.”
“So, those ships have to be given a reason, a good reason, to remain close to their home worlds.”
Lewis drummed the edge of the table with his fingers.
“We have a number of un-answerables here. The beacon, if that’s what it is, is there for a reason. But do they need just an initial fix to jump, or do they need it to be active for the entire transit to home in on?”
“Well, the beacon was on for the entire period Spectre had it under observation, so I would guess the latter,” Fengzi said.
“Unfortunately, that’s a guess.”
“Yes, but a logical one.”
“It makes a big difference, though,” Lewis replied. “If they need only a single pulse, then any Nameless warship on this side of the rift can supply it. While the loss of the gate will cut off most of their supply ships, warships would still be able to make the jump from their side of the rift and into the fighting at the Spur.”
“But if they need a continuous signal, then the Nameless are in a more serious position,” Fengzi said thoughtfully. “If we had warships in system, then any FTL beacon would give our ships the real time position of whatever ship was providing it. Our ships would reach the signaller before those jumping from the far side of the rift. If they need a continuous transmission, then it follows that to lose the transmission mid jump might be too dangerous to risk. In effect, they would have to force our ships out of the system before they dared activate a beacon.”
“They crossed it once so I’d be inclined to say they could do it again, especially since they have so many assets already in this arm of the galaxy,” Lewis said
“Yes, but at what price?” Fengzi countered. “It could have been a slow-boat passage or it needed specialist ships. It might even be that several or many ships attempted the passage until one succeeded and provided a beacon to those that followed. It’s not as if they are afraid of casualties.”
“True,” Lewis grunted. “Or they simply mounted an expedition in towards the galactic core, then worked their way back up to the Spur and built the gate station.”
“That’s probably the most likely,” Fengzi conceded. “Their method isn’t important though.”
The two men paused, both of them staring at the map, both searching for some kind of enlightenment.
“So, we’re already up to a multi-part operation,” Lewis said eventually. “One: assault and destroy the gate. Two: contest the system long enough for the Nameless fleet to be starved of supplies. Three: find a way to pin down the Nameless home fleets so that even if they can make the passage, they cannot leave their home worlds exposed.”
“There is another point I would add to that,” Fengzi said. “If the Spur really is the holy grail, then the Nameless will throw in everything to hold or regain it. Before we go in against it, we need to force them to commit their resources elsewhere. We need multiple contact points spread across multiple systems.”
“Continuous assault?”
“In effect,” Fengzi nodded. “Anywhere that we can make contact with the enemy, we engage them. If or when they fall back, we follow for as long as we can. Force them to burn the candle at both ends.”
Lewis nodded slowly as he considered the point, then finally sat back in his seat.
“One thing for sure,” he said. “While this might be our big chance, we’ll only have the strength to try once.”
___________________________
17th November 2068
“As much as I dislike clichés,” Alanna said over her shoulder, “but were we ever that young?”
“No Skip, we were always profoundly more mature and experienced,” Schurenhofer replied as she leaned on the back of Alanna’s seat to view the holo. “Probably better looking as well.”
Not that you were around, Alanna thought to herself. Schurenhofer hadn’t been there for the first days of the war – at least not in fighters. She’d done advanced fighter training, but before the war there had only been a need for so many new crews each year, with the result that only the best of them that made the cut. Now crews were being rushed through training as fast as the fleet dared – maybe slightly faster.
A dozen blips signifying the fighters of the training squadron swirled around one another as they fought for position. The trainees themselves were in simulator pods, which spun and jolted to recreate the G-forces of real flight. The effect for the outside observer was that of twelve huge and epileptic gyroscopes. It was no wonder the hall was nicknamed the Funfair. With the end of the siege and Dauntless heading for the repair docks, they’d been put off the ship. Schurenhofer was overdue and Alanna wildly overdue a rest period, so after they’d been dispatched for few weeks leave, the fleet posted them both to the advanced fighter training base on the moon. Alanna had expected the trainees to be the kind of people she remembered – young, cocky and kinda stupid. But those being raced through the programme were of a different breed – not least because they were aware of previous fighter crew losses. Most were eager to absorb the experience their predecessors had paid for so dearly.
Alanna was glad she and Schurenhofer had both been assigned. After so long and so much together, it would be hard to get used to a new weapons operator. She’d even managed to keep hold of D for Dubious, which had been given a thorough overhaul before being returned. Alanna doubted the huge, faceless and generally uncaring administration was showing any favouritism. Things were just going her way, for a while at least.
“Do you reckon these guys will be ready for the push?” Schurenhofer asked.
“It will be tough for them if they aren’t.”
As she watched, four of the pods had gone stationary as the main computer registered them as destroyed. The scenario was a basic six on six engagement, not the most educational but every so often it was good to let pilots have a little play with the toys.
The Big Push: it now seemed to be the only bloody thing anyone talked about. There was still fighting going on out in the region of the Junction Line but that wasn’t getting attention from anyone not active
ly involved. Some ships were in dock for modifications no one was allowed to talk about, while others were heading out past the front line. Everyone knew that the big one was coming, everyone had heard tales of experimental super weapons but officialdom was saying nothing – very, very loudly!
“True,” Schurenhofer replied, “once more unto the bloody breach; any idea where we’re going?”
“Officially I haven’t heard anything. Unofficially, probably back to Dauntless. Now where the hell will Dauntless be? That’s the million dollar question.”
As she spoke another two pods shuddered to a halt.
“It sounds like everyone with enough training to fly a fighter and find the fire button after no more than two attempts will be out there.”
On the screen, one side had been whittled down to a single fighter that now dodged and weaved desperately. On the opposing side, three others attempted to box it in.
“The only people who’ll be left around here are the ones who haven’t even completed basic,” she finished.
“The grapevine reckons this will be the last throw,” Schurenhofer replied. “End game and all that jazz.”
“Makes sense,” Alanna agreed.
The last pilot was doing well to be holding off three opponents. He winged one of his tormentors but the computer was registering that this had come at the price of a strained spaceframe and engines that were close to overheating.
“Have you ever thought about what you’ll do after the war?”
“No.”
“What, just ‘no’?”
“Just no. No point thinking about the future if you won’t even make it through the next moment.”
“I’m thinking about leaving the fleet, after the war of course. Probably won’t have enough years to get full pension rights, but I’d be close enough,” Schurenhofer said.
Alanna glanced over her shoulder. Funny how you could spend so much time with someone and not really know them – they’d been flying together for over a year and they’d never really talked about anything outside of the fleet.
“Any idea what you’ll do?”
“There are a fair number of jobs I could go for. I’d also like to have a family and, well... there’s a guy.”
Schurenhofer paused and looked slightly embarrassed.
“I knew him in school,” she said, “we’ve been talking by email. I’d like to get to know him better.”
“Talking? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
“Hur, Hur. Seriously though, what about you?”
Alanna stared into the middle distance for a moment.
“Mars.”
“Mars? It’s a dump.”
“Right now, maybe. I might shoot for a piloting or even management position in the terraforming project. At the very least I’ll cash in on a promise to be given the full tour.” Alanna paused and shrugged. “But no point in worrying about it until I know whether I’ll get there.”
Another pod shut down. The ‘battle’ was over.
“Okay,” Alanna said standing up, “let’s tell them what they did wrong.”
___________________________
7th December 2068
“Well, that was predictable,” Lewis said as he straightened up. “We hit a location within three systems of the Spur, then it was inevitable that the Nameless would fortify.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
Fengzi was still leaning over the table. The image was the first to arrive from the Spur since the Spectre made the original discovery. It was an ultra high-resolution optical picture with an astonishing level of detail, but what it revealed was heartbreaking. The super gate station was located above a Mars-like planet, locked in position at the Lagrange point between the planet and its attendant moon. The orbit of the planet bristled with defensive satellites and the moon’s surface showed even more fixed defences. Finally, dozens of Nameless warships floated around. A few showed signs of battle damage, but most were fully ready to offer defence.
“The surface defences would be the product of years of work,” Fengzi continued, “and clearly it’s still being expanded. That certainly tells me that this is critical ground for the Worms.”
“It tells me things too,” Lewis said with less enthusiasm. “It tells me they don’t intend to lose it and that a conventional assault will incur such unacceptably high losses in the opening stages that we won’t be able to fight the second stage.”
“Then an unconventional assault,” Fengzi snapped.
“Yes,” said Lewis thoughtfully as he motioned forwards his chief of staff.
15th December 2068
Wingate sat alone with his thoughts in the small waiting room. Unconsciously he ran his good hand over the nubs of his missing fingers. Time was slipping away from them and this was more appropriately the role of Secretary Callahan, but it was no great surprise that she had chosen to bypass him. The door opened and a White House aide slipped in.
“Admiral Wingate sir,” he said respectfully. “The President will see you now.”
“Thank you,” he replied as he tucked his cap under his arm.
President Clifton rose from behind the famous desk.
“Ah, Admiral, thank you for coming. Please be seated.”
The President quickly cut to the chase.
“Admiral Wingate, I know this is irregular and apologise for dragging you all the way from Dublin, but I feel we must discuss the fleet’s proposed assault.”
“Which aspect, Madam President?”
“I think you know which part, Admiral. I have received the Pentagon’s report regarding their ability to make the arrangements requested by the fleet. They have stated that the necessary changes can be made to these weapons. The Joint Chiefs of Staff have examined the fleet’s proposal and agree with it. Yet, I am troubled.
“Admiral Wingate, the fleet proposes to use enhanced fallout nuclear weapons against civilian targets. I do wonder whether the fleet has considered the ethics of its proposal?”
“In part, yes,” Wingate replied. “But we have mostly considered the practical considerations.”
“Practical considerations!” Clifton exclaimed. “Practicality and military necessity have been used to justify a great deal. An orbital bombardment using kinetic strike weapons could level a city with one or two hits. Dear God, Admiral, how can this be justified?”
“Because we know the Nameless are driven by their motivation to acquire resources and above all living space. The reason we seek authorisation to deploy Cobalt Sixty enhanced fallout nuclear bombs, is that these are the only weapons we possess that will render a planet lifeless – permanently lifeless.”
“And a regular nuclear bomb isn’t good enough! The design for such weapons was a product of sheer wrong thinking during the Cold War period,” Clifton objected.
She stood up and began pacing back and forth across the Oval Office.
“We are talking about weapons that will cause such devastating radioactive fallout that those vaporised in the first blast will be considered the lucky ones! In effect Wingate, you are asking for permission to commit something which in my view could be judged a war crime!”
“Without question it’s a very big ask and one that I accept is extremely difficult for you to grant,” Wingate replied with a determined calm. “I do not doubt that there will be those that will say that this was a line that should not have been crossed. But those people are not here. Most of them have never put themselves forward to be the ones to make the hard decisions.”
Clifton was about to reply but Wingate raised a finger.
“With all respect, Madam President, I’m not finished.”
She nodded for him to continue.
“We need to pin the Nameless home fleet in place. And I emphasise it’s not a matter of wanting, but needing to. To the best of our knowledge, the only means by which we can do so is to attack one of their planets. Even if that attack is not completely successful, as long as we continue to possess any mean
s by which to repeat the feat, the Nameless will have to retain a disproportionate force at each of their planets to be absolutely certain it is protected. As for the ethical considerations... well ethics are easy when consequences are limited. The question has to be, if this is an ethical red line, are we prepared to pay the price for not crossing it?”
“The fleet’s proposed offensive represents our last and probably only real hope of beating back the Nameless. This in turn is our only hope for peace. Given our opponent’s war aims – namely our eradication as a species, then the price of failure will be extinction. Are we then prepared to reduce our own chances, rather than use these weapons?”
Clifton walked over to the Oval Office windows and stared out.
“One of the great causes I have embraced since my very first day in politics is nuclear disarmament. Did you know that?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yes, Madam President,” he replied.
“Now you are asking me to authorise the use of weapons that are the very epitome of salting the ground and poisoning the wells. If I’d known that the plans and research for these weapons still existed when I came into office, I would have had them destroyed. But now, now I have the military telling me this is the only way we can survive and the only arguments the dissenters can offer are ethical.”
Wingate made no reply.
“I will give the order for these weapons to be prepared and transferred because I believe I have no choice. But I am certain of one thing, Admiral, posterity will not thank us for this.”
“I know, Madam President, but we have been forced down this road. With the benefit of hindsight, future generations may say it was wrong and that there were other routes we might have taken. But based on the information we have, staying our hand is a luxury we cannot afford.”
“And in doing so, commit an unforgivable act,” she said. “But we will do what we must and hope that future generations will at least understand why.”
Wingate maintained his poise until out of the White House and on his way to DC Airport. Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief and tell his chief of staff.
The Last Charge (The Nameless War Trilogy Book 3) Page 29