“That ship was able to use Hyper VII,” said the Helmsman, using a tone as if he were speaking to a child. “That is not too backward, now is it?”
“No matter how good their stealth tech, they would still have a problem getting rid of their waste heat,” said the bristling Sensory Officer. “We would pick them up on infrared in seconds.”
“They are there,” said the Group Leader, pointing at the holo which showed the cluster of asteroids. “That is where I would go if I were trying to play rodent to our hunter.”
There were grins all around the bridge, as the males were reminded that they were the hunters here. It was against their code of honor to run and hide while they were capable of fighting. Not that it didn’t happen on occasion, when the odds were insurmountable and it made more sense to save the resources of the Fleet and Empire.
“Send a probe toward those rocks,” said the Group Leader, looking over at the Tactical Officer. “Let us see what’s behind them.”
The officer gave a head gesture of affirmation, then pushed his claws into the holes of his board. An instant later a probe appeared on the screen, a modified missile, moving toward the rocks at a thousand gravities. Just a little over halfway there it deceled at the same rate, then went into a coast as it came near to the rocks. It was radiating on every known band of sensor, radar, lidar, grav wave, and deep radar among others. The take started coming back on the screen of the Flagship, showing the surface of rock and metal asteroids.
“Where the hell are they?” asked the Sensory Officer, growling at the holo, which showed nothing but asteroids. The probe continued on for a moment, clearing the cluster, then deceled and came back.
“They’re not there,” growled the Tactical Officer, his eyes slitted as he glared at the holo.
“Order the probe to do a slow sweep of the surfaces of all the rocks,” said the Group Leader. “And launch two more to join in the search. Order Son of Grafada to send a trio as well. Sweeping past these rocks and looping back in behind. I want these rocks swept like the coat of an Agrada,” said the Group Leader, referring to the favorite riding beast of the Ca’cada, a one ton carnivore with thick fur.
There was silence on the bridge for many minutes as they crew watched the take from the probe and the two warships began to creep in among the rocks. It was unusual for the asteroids of a belt to congregate such, unless they were in the Trojan points of a planet. Unusual did not mean impossible, and it was simply statistical probability that this score of rocks had gathered close, where their small mutual gravity kept them, bumping and jarring through the years that the cluster had existed. They were still some distance from each other, on average, a couple hundred kilometers or more, though there was one close trio and two close pairs. One of the supercruisers was now behind the rocks at an angle, sending her active sensor probes over every surface that presented itself. The Group Leader’s ship moved in from the front, into the center of the cluster, radiating sensory probes at all angles.
“Where in the Hells could they be?” asked the Tactical Officer, his hand darting claws into control holes over his board.
“They found another way out,” growled the Helm Officer, looking back at the Captain. “They are not here.”
“They are here,” yelled the Group Leader, slamming a pair of fists on his left chair arm. “Now find them.”
“The small ships are down to Hyper II,” called out the Sensory Officer, his eyes narrowed.
“Order Son of Grafada back to the hyper limit,” said the Group Leader. “Best acceleration. I want them to blow those destroyers out of space before they can get back into hyper and tell someone else where we are.”
The minutes ticked by, the crew searching frantically, trying to find the target before they had to run from something else that might be coming in hyper for them, behind those destroyers. If there is anything, thought the Group Leader, realizing that glory sometimes required risk, or it wouldn’t be glory at all.
* * *
The tension level was even higher on the bridge of the human ship, the stakes higher. On the holo the tactical display showed the enemy beginning to move through the cluster. They were radiating on every band of active sensor and were not hard to locate.
“I have a visual,” said the Sensory Officer, and a view of one of the enemy ships came on the holo.
“Where the Hell are you getting that?” hissed von Rittersdorf, sitting up straight in his chair.
“From the drone we deployed earlier,” said the Sensory Officer, looking confused at the Captain’s reaction.
“And it’s out in the open?” asked the Captain, coming out of his seat and storming over to the sensor station.
“Destroyers have translated into II,” came the voice of the Sensor Chief over the com.
“Get that damned thing under cover before they spot it,” yelled the Captain at the officer.
“But, it’s just a probe,” said the officer, pushing the touch panel to his front and ordering the small device to seek cover. “It’s heavily stealthed.”
“Of all the idiot things to do,” yelled the Captain, storming back to his seat. “They have better tech than us. Just because we can’t pick it up doesn’t mean that they can’t.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the Sensory Officer, hunching his shoulders. “I didn’t think it would…”
“Well think in the future,” said the Captain, glaring at the officer. “Or ask someone to think for you, before you get us all killed.”
“Yes, sir,” said the officer, looking down at the floor.
“Just do it by the book from now on,” said the Captain, shaking his head.
“Incoming destroyers have translated into I,” came the voice of the Sensory Chief over the com.
The Captain looked back at Sean. He had to admit that though the young man had a worried expression on his face, he didn’t seem any more frightened than any of the rest of the crew, himself included.
“Ship one has changed course,” called out the Sensory Officer. “They’re heading this way. Ship two is changing vector and accelerating back toward the hyper barrier. I think they’re going to lay for the incoming destroyers.”
“Lasardo,” called out the Captain.
“Sir,” said the Tactical Officer, turning in his seat.
“I want our biggest warheads on the starboard missiles. Move the first couple of loads out of the ship and ready to go. As soon as that bastard presents a target I want you to fire him up. We can at least take the bastard that is coming for us.” He looked back at the uncrowned Emperor again, waiting for a reaction.
The Emperor looked the Captain in the eyes and nodded his head, a slight smile on his face. He already has a good hate going for the bastards. Good. But we still need to get him out of here, or it’s all for nothing.
* * *
“Small enemy scout ships have translated into I,” said the Sensory Officer. “Estimated time to normal space, two minutes, twenty seconds.”
The Group Leader looked up at the timer that was ticking over the tactical plot, knowing that they might have to break off the search if there were more ships following those scout ships. When the timer clicked past the minute mark a blip appeared in the system near them.
“I’ve got something,” yelled the Sensory Officer, looking back with a grin.
“Show me,” ordered the Group Leader, looking away from the plot that showed the approaching destroyers in Hyper I, nearing the limit.
A visual appeared on the screen of a small robot probe, darting back into the cover of the rocks.
“They are here,” said the Group Leader, pumping two left fists into the air.
“We have another track,” called out the Sensory Officer, holding a lower left hand on his earphone and staring intently at the screen above his board.
“More destroyers?” asked the Captain, his eyes narrowing.
“No, sir,” said the Sensory Officer, his voice quivering a bit. “Much larger. Eight to ten
million ton range. Two of them.”
“Their small scout capital ships,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the Group Leader.
“Small is a relative term,” said the Helm Officer.
Yes, thought the Group Leader, scowling. We might be able to take one of them, but two is a different proposition.
“Two more have appeared on the plot,” said the Sensory Officer in a resigned tone.
“Find that target ship,” growled the Group Leader. “Nothing else is important. And order the Son of Grafada to move into position to engage those small scout ships.”
“Aye sir,” said the Com Officer and Tactical Officer at the same time.
That was a stupid order to give, thought the Group Leader as the other males went to their tasks. Son of Grafada is already three light minutes from us, and will not receive our transmission until they are already engaged with the enemy. It was still easy to forget, even for experienced warriors. When ships moved a distance away, communications were problematical at best.
“I think I have something, sir,” said the Sensory Officer. “Power readings from this rock.”
The asteroid in question appeared on the tactical plot, with a blinking red dot showing the anomaly, a heat source that shouldn’t have existed on a lifeless rock this far from its star.
“They must have found a crevice or cavern that allowed them to hide their ship,” said the Tactical Officer.
“It will be their grave,” pledged the Group Leader, pointing a right upper claw at the screen. “Move us into position where we can destroy them.”
“The small scout ships have translated into the system,” called the Sensory Officer. “Son of Grafada should be in position to open fire.”
“We will have the target in sight in three minutes, five seconds,” called out the Helm Officer.
The Group Leader smiled. First he would destroy the ship that carried the unknown but precious cargo. Then he would use the death of Son of Grafada to cover his own retreat out of the system.
“We have more hyper tracks,” called the Sensory Officer.
“What?”
“Ten of the small scouts, and a dozen of a larger vessel.”
“And they’re all around the system,” stated the Group Captain, looking at the plot and feeling his own doom approaching. At least we can make sure that the thing they were trying to get to safety dies.
* * *
The four destroyers came out of hyper as close to the limit as possible, within a second of each other. They started to scan the system, looking for the enemy they had come for. A few minutes after entry that was made unnecessary as one of those targets opened up on them with lasers, particle beams and missiles, having seen them at the same time they saw it. It fired well before it had a visual lock, using an estimation based on their exit from hyper and their coasting velocity.
The ships were ready for trouble, electromag fields powered up to max, all weapons systems manned and ready. Hyper VII destroyers carried fewer missiles and tubes than standard VI ships. They carried a much more robust Hyperdrive grav projector than other ships in their fifty thousand tons of extra mass. And the matter-antimatter reactors to power that projector. And their laser and particle beam batteries were also much more robust, to take advantage of that extra energy.
Moments after the incoming lasers struck their fields they fired back, while at the same time shifting into evasive maneuvers to make enemy targeting more difficult. This avoided most of the incoming particle beams of the enemy. Most but not all, and one of the ships was hit hard by two proton beams that punched through her electromag cold plasma field and tore through the hull. The ship was hurt, but not out of the fight.
All of the destroyers started flushing missiles out of the six tubes each had that could track on the target. Those leaving the two bow tubes had the added momentum of the accelerators pushing them toward their targets. Those from the four side tubes were simply ejected into space and turned toward the target, their only acceleration that of their own grabbers. Five thousand gravities was a lot of acceleration, but nowhere near the eight thousand gravities the Ca’cadasan missiles were pulling heading for the human vessels.
The human ships acted in the best tradition of the Fleet, trying to close with the enemy while constantly evading fire and giving all they had. They were still outclassed by the enemy ship that out-massed their combined weight by a factor of four, and had superior tech as well.
Ten minutes into the engagement the leader of the destroyers was shattered by a trio of missiles that got through the defenses. Seconds later another destroyer was sent tumbling in space, her nose opened up by powerful lasers and particle beams. The other two separated and went into maximum evasives, flushing decoys and setting jammers at max, their battle now one of survival until the heavier units arrived.
* * *
“That crevice ahead,” said the Tactical Officer, pointing to the dark spot on the asteroid. “That’s where they are.”
“Prepare to fire,” called out the Group Leader, sitting up straight and tense in his seat. “As soon as weapons bear.”
“Aye, my Lord,” said the Tactical Officer, a couple of claws in control board holes, ready to fire.
* * *
The human officer moved first, hitting the commit panel on his board, starting the computer sequence that tracked and fired faster than humanly possible.
The missiles left the tubes at the same time as the four sitting outside the ship leapt forward at a target less than twenty kilometers away. The enemy made the mistake of coming in too close, nearer than needed. The missiles had less than a second travel time before they struck the enemy vessel. The enemy had its electromagnetic cold plasma field at maximum strength. Unfortunately, that kind of defense was useless against missiles, which had to be knocked down by counter-missiles or close in defense systems. They were too close for counter-missiles. Close in defense weapons were able to track and destroy two of the human weapons, which detonated with two hundred megaton blasts of antimatter fury. Heat and radiation reached out in all directions, and McArthur caught some of that fury, enough to knock her laser c ring offline. The two forward rings pumped out energy at their maximum rate, as did two of her four particle beams. More of the heat and radiation went into the enemy ship, taking out laser domes and electromag generators, as well as all of the missile tubes on that side of the ship.
Three enemy missiles were leaving their tubes at the moment of the blast. They detonated in sympathetic explosions, causing more damage to the ship, the catastrophic kind, taking out the surviving electromag generators and weapons systems. One missile slammed into the crumpled slag that was now the end of the missile tube it was traversing. The gigaton blast shattered that portion of the ship, killing Ca’cada by the thousands and vaporizing materials a hundred meters into the vessel.
The four remaining human missiles flew through the blast, in the process of breach in the fraction of a second it took to get to the hull of the enemy Supercruiser. They added their redundant force to the catastrophe that was already in progress. The shock killed every still living Ca’cada aboard, before they even realized what was happening. All systems went offline, including the grabbers, and the ship was pushed away from the asteroid at a hundred gees acceleration. The asteroid was also pushed away in an equal and opposite reaction, and the starboard side of the destroyer boiled its own alloy into space to join with that gassing off the rock and metal of the planetoid.
At a hundred kilometers from the asteroid containment failed in the matter antimatter reactors, and the Ca’cadasan ship evaporated into a star bright blast in the hundred gigaton range. All the rest of the antimatter went off nanoseconds later, from warheads and storage containers all over the vessel. When the plasma had spread into space there was nothing left of the vessel.
On the bridge of the Dot McArthur the crew lolled in semiconsciousness in their chairs turned acceleration couches, all encased in their shipboard battle armor
. Klaxons were going off in the background as the Captain fought his way out of the haze that was enveloping his brain, the symptoms of a concussion. He pulled up a schematic of the ship in his mind and almost cried out at the damage his beautiful ship had sustained. Went and got the hell torn out of my command, didn’t I, he thought looking at the computer tallied casualty figures that showed forty-two crew dead and a hundred and fifty-one seriously injured. He couldn’t tell from the computer record how many could be returned to life, and how many would be permanently gone. And what about the Emperor, he thought, trying to call up the young man’s life signs.
“You’re going to be OK, Captain,” said a voice, and von Rittersdorf turned his head to look at the young man in question. Sean had his helmet off, and there was some blood from a small cut on his forehead. “I think your right arm is broken.”
“Not as broken as my ship,” said the Captain with a small smile. “How’s the cat?” Only later did the Captain realize the inanity of that question. Of course the cat was tanked in stasis, and came through it better than the human crew.
“You should see the other guy,” said the Emperor, a wide smile on his face. “You did it, Captain. You killed the bastards.”
“And you got hurt?”
“Probably less so than everyone else,” said the young man, shaking his head. “It’s in the genes, after all. Wouldn’t have made much of a difference if they had vaporized this ship.”
“I’m just glad we could get you out of this mess, your Majesty,” said the Captain, sitting up in his chair and wincing as he moved his right arm. The hard suit was acting as a splint, but there was still pain. It abated somewhat as his suit injected pain killers into his system, though at a thought he reduced the dosage. He needed a clear head, or as clear as possible. “There’s still the other one to worry about, and I don’t think we can do much against them.”
“We have translations into the system,” called out the voice of the Sensor Chief over the still working ship’s intercom. “Battle cruisers. Two, no four of them.”
“I guess that takes care of that problem, Captain,” said the Emperor.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 24