“Keep pouring it on them,” yelled the Captain, watching as the alien vessel sprouted holes and gashes, and gas poured from the wounds. She looked at a side screen that showed damage to her vessel, wincing a little bit at the red that showed on the ship schematic, calming herself down as she realized that the damage was actually very minor for a close in knife fight like this.
The ship on the viewer bucked a bit as a major outgassing acted like a rocket. Then the two laser beams and a couple of antiproton particle beams intercepted on one of the enemy ship’s hyperdrive projectors. Vapor and pieces of supermetal alloy flew from the enemy ship, which shimmered for a moment, then again.
“She going to fall out,” said the Tactical Officer, a grim smile on his face.
Go, thought the Captain, wanting this over and done with. And then with a flash the enemy ship was gone, and the heavy grav waves of a catastrophic translation came over the sensors.
“She’s gone,” said the Tactical Officer, looking back at the Captain with a smile.
“Good job, Mr. Yomatov,” said Mei, nodding her head at the officer. “Good job everyone,” she said over the com. “Engineer, any critical damage?”
“Light damage to forward grabber units,” said the Engineer.
“Light enough to keep using them?” asked the Captain, praying for the answer she wanted and the ship needed.
“Engineering specs would say to tell you we need to make repairs,” said the Engineer. “Common sense and the situation tell me that we can keep going.”
“Good,” said the Captain after a sigh. “Make whatever repairs you can before we make it to the target system.” She switched channels through her link. “How far behind us is number two, Chief?”
“They could catch us in six hours in hyper,” said the Chief. “That’s assuming a maximum accel profile and a decel on top of us.”
“Based on those figures, Captain,” said the Navigator, working the numbers on the navigation station, “they will translate into the system an hour and a half behind us.”
“Will that be enough time, ma’am?” asked Yomatov, his expression again worried.
“It will have to be,” said Mei, looking at her repeater screen at the visual profile the navigator had put up on it. “We’ll just have to hope there’s something good in the system Kuiper Belt waiting for us.”
“You know they’re not going to fall for the freighter ploy again, right?” said Jackson over the personal com.
“I wish they would be stupid enough to do so,” said the Captain. “But even if they bought the freighter ploy, they would have to be a little leery of a cargo ship that destroyed one of their own.
* * *
Jean de Arc dropped out of hyper I a mere one light second from the barrier, a risky proposition, but everything the ship did now was a risky proposition. As soon as she entered normal space every scope on the ship, every sensor, was looking for something they could use out here in the outer system.
“We have an hour and a half, people, so let’s find something,” said the Captain.
“Won’t they just turn and run when they see what we are?” asked the Helmsman.
“That would be nice,” said the Navigator. “Except they would have to wonder why we are running, and why we’re so inferior in our maneuvers and acceleration.”
“They’ll come after us,” said the Captain, looking at the repeater screen, searching for a return along with everyone else. “The bastards are too arrogant to do otherwise.”
“I think I’ve found something, ma’am,” said the Sensory Officer. A small white object appeared on the holo, then blew up to a mostly smooth ice ball. “It’s about six hundred kilometers in diameter.”
“A Plutino,” said the Navigator, checking her own board. “She’s eighteen point two light minutes away. We can get to her in ninety-one minutes at our best accel/decel profile”
“And the enemy ship will see us when they come out of hyper,” said the Helmsman with a frown.
“We want them to see us,” said Mei, looking at the ice ball and nodding her head. “Is there a spin on it?”
“About one rotation every four point four hours,” said the Navigator.
“Perfect,” exclaimed the Captain, slapping her hand on the arm of her chair. “Get us there with the best profile, Helm. Maybe a little less than optimum, so we can be sure they’re here in time to see us.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to push it, ma’am,” said the Helm as the officer punched in the commands and started the vessel on the proper vector to curve her toward the Plutino. “Maybe we could hide before they get here.”
“I don’t want to hide,” said the Captain, smiling. “We don’t have time to get into a game of cat and mouse. No, I want her to come right to me, right into my trap.”
“You sure about this, Captain?” asked Jackson over the private com.
“We need to take them out, XO. I don’t want to be playing hide and seek with these guys all the way back to base. And they might vector in some friends if we give them a chance. Do you have any suggestions, Xavier?”
“No, ma’am,” said the XO with a curt laugh. “I agree with your decision. I was just testing your resolve.”
“I have a lot of resolve, XO,” said the Captain, putting a hand on the back of her neck and rubbing the tight muscles, thinking about the hard armor suits they would all need to get back into within the hour. “I wish I had a ship under me to match my resolve.”
“She’s been a lucky ship so far, ma’am. Luckier than anything I’ve ever heard of. And we’ve got a good crew, and a good captain.”
“Why, thank you, XO,” said Mei, a smile stretching her face. “But right now I would rather be lucky than good.”
The hour passed, then twenty-five more minutes. And then the waited signal came, the grav waves of translation from Hyper I to normal space.
“Right at the limit,” said the Sensor Officer, grimacing. “Arrogant bastards.”
“How long till they see us?” asked the Com Officer.
“Hell, they see us now,” said the Navigator, looking over at the other officer. “Just as we were eighteen point two minutes ago.”
“And they will see us as we are now in eighteen point two minutes,” said the Tactical Officer. “Even if they guess our course perfectly and take a shot, it will take eighteen minutes to hit us.
“And we will be behind the ice ball in three minutes,” said the Helm.
“They will see us,” agreed the Tactical Officer, “but they won’t be able to do anything about it.”
“How is our holographic projection holding up?” asked the Captain, looking over at the Sensory Officer.
“It should be perfect,” said that officer, nodding toward her board and the holographic display that showed what the ship was trying to appear as. “Or as perfect as can be.”
Jean de Arc was showing herself to be much more severely damaged than she actually was. A vision of a warship with all laser rings cold, missing grabbers, even large holes in the armored hull. Hopefully, enough to entice the enemy into thinking she had easy prey.
The battle cruiser dropped thousands of microsats in her wake as she started to curve around the planet. Each sat, less than a centimeter in diameter, was able to assume a standard orbit under its own power, and transmit visual signals back to their mother ship. As Jean de Arc curved to the point where she couldn’t see the enemy directly, she still had a clear view of him. The enemy could not say the same.
“All stop,” ordered the Captain. “I want us exactly on the other side of the Plutino from the Cacas. Then station keeping on the grabbers.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Helm.
“Commander Jackson,” she called over the com. “Are the teams ready?”
A visual came of the big XO on the hangar deck, wearing his battle armor configured as a spacesuit. “We’re ready to go, Captain.”
“Just make sure you get your big ass back here,” said the Captain, smil
ing. “I wouldn’t want to have to break in another Exec for the rest of this voyage.”
“I have no intention of getting lost out there, ma’am,” said Jackson, the vid showing him boarding the assault shuttle, the hatch closing behind him.
Nobody ever does, thought the Captain, worrying despite her show of confidence. And they still get lost nonetheless.
“Shuttle launch,” said a voice from the hangar deck. The holo viewer showed the four shuttles moving away from the ship, dropping low and moving to the predetermined point. In less than a minute they were touching down on the surface. Moments later the battle armored crews were swarming over the surface of the ice ball, robots hauling large objects out of the cargo compartments.
The view swept back for a moment, showing the expanse of the ice ball. Not the largest Plutino, thought the Captain. Most systems had a Kuiper belt that was replenished by the Ort Cloud. And there were many ice balls of truly enormous size, in the same class as small planets and large moons. But this was the only one that was within range when they came into normal space. So it would have to do.
“You might want to see this, Captain,” said the Sensory Officer, and the screen switched to a view of the enemy ship, and a pair of missiles that were accelerating away from the vessel at high gee.
“ETA at present acceleration, thirty-one minutes,” said the Sensory Officer.
“They’ll have to slow to curve around the ice ball,” said the Tactical Officer, running the figures on his board. “And I’m pretty sure we can handle two missiles. The problem will come if they try to saturate our defenses.”
“We’ll just have to hope they don’t try to saturate us with missiles,” said the Sensory Officer.
“Or that they don’t curve around the planet at a distance,” said the Helm. “Too many damned hopes and prayers.”
“That’s all we have, people,” said the Captain, glaring at the Helm. “We don’t have the time to engage in negative thinking. If the plan works, we have a chance of survival. Our one chance of survival. If it doesn’t work we are doomed. So we have to believe it will work. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the Helm, looking unhappy, but keeping her mouth shut for the moment.
Time ticked by while the Captain tried to think if there was anything she had forgotten, any way to tweak the plan that might shift the odds more in their favor. She could think of nothing, and didn’t think there was anything else that could be done. Which didn’t mean she could stop thinking about it.
“Missiles are decelerating,” called out the Sensor Officer. Matching a profile for a slow orbit around this ice ball.”
“How are they communicating with their launch platform?” asked the Captain, leaning over and looking at the tactical display that showed all the players in the little drama that was to be performed in this K Class system.
“Probably a tight beam maser transmission back to the ship,” said the Sensor Officer. “Everything they see the ship will see. After the light speed delay of course.”
“Of course,” said the Captain, thinking of the main com problem in space operations. Something the Donut promised to work around. And something that could work in her favor this day. “And after they curve around the Plutino they will have to transmit by normal radio broadcast, yes?”
“As far as I know, ma’am,” said the tactical officer. “Our microsats are receiving some bleed off from the ship’s signals to the missiles. I think I can jam them as soon as they lose line of sight to control.”
“Very well. I’m depending on that, Lieutenant.” She linked into the com. “Commander Jackson. How are you doing there?”
“Packages are in place and the robots are covering them up. We should be back on our way in another five.”
“Set the robots to finish the job and then bury themselves into the ice. I want you and your people heading back here in two. OK.”
“Yes, ma’am. Wilco.”
“Missiles are on final approach,” said the Sensor Officer, her face strained with anxiety. “Slowing to one hundred KPS.”
“Still capable of hitting us and causing considerable damage,” said the Navigator, looking back at the Captain.
“Tactical. Take them under fire as soon as you have a solution. Maximum range. Sensor. Jam them as soon as they curve around the planet.” She looked back at the Com Officer.
“The shuttles are leaving the surface now,” said that officer. ‘Accelerating toward the ship.”
“Jamming now,” said the Sensor Officer, pushing a commit on her panel.
“Missiles coming around the curve in four seconds,” said the tactical officer, his finger poised over his commit button. “Three, two, one.”
As the last word left his mouth he hit the commit, and both working lasers stabbed out at the missiles, which were easy targets at their slow approach speed. The missiles flared with white hot fire as their hundred megaton warheads detonated. The microsats for a thousand kilometers in each direction fried from the fierce EMP, while hard radiation flooded the forward section of the warship, and the shuttles that were reaching up to her.
“We’ve lost a shuttle,” came the voice from the flight control center. “We’ve lost another.”
Mei sat in her seat, wanting to scream out, to stuff her fingers in her mouth, refusing to do either. The crew needed a calm master.
“The others are alright,” said the flight controller.
“Commander Jackson,” she called out over the com.
“Here, ma’am,” came back the voice of that officer. “For a moment there I didn’t think I would be able to say that. We’re going to all need to go to medical as soon as we get aboard. Too much hard radiation.”
“Acknowledged,” said the Captain, her smile turning upside down. “Medical. Full team to hangar bay three. Radiation protocol.”
“We have another problem, ma’am,” said the Weapon’s Officer over the com. “Laser Ring A sustained damage.”
“What kind of damage?” said the Captain, looking up and wondering how much more they could take.
“Radiation erosion to the nanoparticle skin of the ring,” said the Weapon’s Officer. The Captain could hear the weariness in the officer’s voice, and the determination.
“Make all repairs that you can,” said the Captain. “Give me as much function as you can before the enemy gets here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the officer. “On it.”
Please let me have some good news, thought the Captain, looking at the tactical viewer. Some of that view was out along with the destroyed microsats, but as minutes passed more and more area filled in as the ship launched more to cover the gaps. That’s good news.
“They might think we’re gone,” said the Com Officer, staring at the tactical display.
“They might,” said the Captain. “I wouldn’t, but a blast like that might give that impression. But they’ve still got to make sure.”
“Ten minutes till they reach the ice ball,” said the Navigation Officer.
I just wish the time would go ahead and pass, thought the Captain. This waiting game is wearing on us all.
Mei closed her eyes and imagined herself back on New Hanau, her homeworld. Life had been much simpler in those days, on the beautiful world of charming cities and temples in the traditional Chinese style. Her parents had never really understood her drive to get away from that core world, her wish to get into space. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the world. The lack was in her, in her spirit, which only the Universe could fill. And she had found satisfaction in a life of service to her fellow human. She had always expected someday to see New Hanau again. Now, that seemed like a dream that would never occur.
The Captain said a mantra she had learned in her studies of Zen Buddhism. She was nominally a Christian, Reformed Catholic, but had found little difficulty in incorporating the other faith in with her primary. That was the elegance of Reformed Catholicism, which looked on the beauty of other faiths not
as threats, but as co-pilgrims on the great journey of spiritual development.
And I wonder what our big horned brothers out there pray to? she thought. We know they pray to something, even if it’s just that damned Emperor of theirs. The one who commanded the death of all humans.
“Enemy will be within visual in twenty-five seconds,” said the Sensor Officer in a voice that almost sounded like a chant. “Twenty seconds.”
“Helm, give me full power on planned course in ten seconds,” she called out to that officer. “Tactical, detonation when ready.”
The Tactical Officer nodded his head, looked at his board and waited. He looked back at the viewer and waited until the enemy ship nosed around the ice ball, a mere twenty kilometers above the surface. At that moment the officer yelled the word as he pushed the commit panel. “Fire”
On the ice ball four charges went off nanoseconds after receiving the signal. Missile warheads, each in the five hundred megaton range, they blasted upwards in fury, sending ice and water droplets in the millions of tons up at the enemy scout ship. The ship shuddered as the liquid storm struck, obscuring the outer sensors. At the same time the blast waves lifted the ship away from the planet, and stunned the shocked crew.
The Jean de Arc had already begun her run, ten seconds before the enemy nosed into sight and the charges on the Plutino were detonated. She swept in, acquiring the enemy on radar and lidar reflecting off the water coating the ship, obviating the stealth skin of the vessel. The blast and the liquid also tore the plasma coating out of the electromag field, which sparked and died a microsecond later. The target locked, the battle cruiser fired a full power blast of her two working laser rings, about one point four times the energy of a single fully functional ring. A microsecond later the antimatter particle beams struck the hull, blasting pieces off of the ship and opening large gashes to space.
The enemy ship staggered again, and her laser domes glowed with power as she prepared to fire on her tormentor.
“Plasma torpedo, fire,” yelled the Captain, and a moment later the ten tons of plasma, radiating a million degrees of heat, flew from the nose of the battle cruiser, traveling the eight hundred kilometers separating the ships in an instant. The plasma struck the already sundered hull and flowed into the gaps, running through the interior of the ship and incinerating everything it touched.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 34