Hawk Flight (Flight of the Hawk Book 3)

by Robert Little

  He had studied all the information on the fusion bottle radiation issue and with some help from Jupiter Base, they developed sensors, currently mounted on four shuttles. Their initial report on the work that had been performed on the fighters was so bad he at first thought someone had simply failed to perform the work at all. Alas, that was not the case. Some fighters were reasonably quiet, but most of them were clearly visible on the new sensors.

  As a result, he was sending four fighters at a time to Jupiter Base, where the modifications were either replaced or further modified to work. In some cases, the work had been so slipshod that Admiral Lee was once again sending armed marshals to the relevant yards, warrants in hand.

  Alexi mused that Admiral Lee was not a man one wanted to have as an enemy. He was relentless and unforgiving. He never forgot either corruption or honor.

  A Dash 6 sent a message, signaling that a large force of probable fighters was approaching from behind the immense planet. Over the next ten minutes the diffuse blob registering on the 6’s new sensor, coalesced into thirty-two Dash 6’s.

  Alexi almost laughed – those fighters were visible well outside radar or even gravity sensor range. First Fleet was clearly hoping to sneak its fighters into missile range by masking their drives inside the huge and noisy gravity well of the planet. Unfortunately, the new sensors weren’t affected by gravity, and First Fleet hadn’t received even bad modifications to their fusion systems or the new sensors.

  Alexi ordered, “Send in Delta. No more than one G, and go ballistic as soon as you’ve achieved a good shooting solution. Launch at twenty thousand.” Cdr. Bergman forwarded the sensor information to the Dash 6’s, and five minutes after he issued the order, the fighters eased forward on minimal thrust.

  He assumed that the approaching aggressor force wouldn’t use active sensors until the very last moment, giving his sixteen fighters the ability to launch sixty-four missiles at very close range. Based on statistics developed during the civil war, he assumed that between twenty to twenty-five fighters were about to be digitally destroyed, leaving the remaining pilots a difficult choice; go after the twelve fighters or continue to press forward into missile range of the huge carrier. In a real battle, there would be a third possibility; retreat, but since this mock confrontation didn’t involve actual missiles, he assumed that his opposite number would roll the dice. If nothing else, everyone would learn something. No matter what choice was taken, the two groups of fighters would be within their respective energy weapon envelope.

  He ordered Gamma, the Dash 4 element, “Accelerate at…two G’s, heading directly away from the approaching fighters. Maintain a wide separation – I want you to be seen, while pretending to try not to be observed.”

  This was the third day of war games and First Fleet had so far proven to be highly predictable. Alexi thought that today, the elderly admiral in charge of First was going to turn to the playbook page that advised that ‘from time to time, it is advisable to be unpredictable’.

  That would mean that he might have jumped one of his carriers well outside Alexi’s position to pinch his single carrier between two opposing forces.

  Alexi had already privately concluded that First Fleet was being very badly used by an officer who had never fired in anger anything more dangerous than a memo.

  Alexi had another thirty-two Dash 6’s sitting quietly in a compact formation three million kilometers to polar north of the carrier. Two of the fighters had the new sensor, and if the aggressors behaved as expected, they would see the approaching fighters in time to move to intercept them well outside missile range of the carrier, or a bit over one million kilometers.

  Almost exactly as expected, Alpha reported, “Krakow, estimated forty-eight fighters now four million kilometers distant, accelerating at low G.”

  Alexi looked at the board and beamed – First’s unpredictability had proven to be utterly predictable.

  Cdr. Bergman asked, “Sir, orders?” He shook his head, “That takes care of most of their fighters, and I would assume that the remainder are serving as carrier defense. Let’s ease our fighters forward at no more than one-half G. I’d like to coordinate the two launches. Right now it looks as if they not only separated their forces, the smaller force will reach launch range at least twenty minutes too early; either that, or the outer force is too late. Have Delta slow, no more than one quarter G. That should delay their arrival time enough so that we can kill both birds before they can do anything we wouldn’t like.”

  He continued to look at the plot and ordered, “Have Gamma reverse acceleration until they are motionless. Again, make it look like we’re trying to be sneaky, but I want them seen.”

  On the plot, the Krakow sat four million kilometers north of Jupiter. First Fleet had one element of thirty-two fighters heading up out of the gravity well of the planet, trying to get to heavy missile range, while a larger force was approaching from outside the Krakow’s position. The carrier wasn’t maneuvering, but it was so large and noisy that its position was well known to everyone. In addition, his sixteen Dash 4’s were outside of the carrier and making a show of trying to hide.

  Over the next three hours the aggressor squadrons finally shut off their drives and began coasting in on the Krakow, while Alexi’s fighters silently drifted into blocking positions.

  Despite his best efforts, the inner squadron was still too close, and Alexi quietly ordered them to launch at the twenty k mark. They were still going to be seven or eight minutes early, but Alexi was betting the outer force would assume that the Krakow had stumbled over the approaching fighters.

  Thirty-two simulated missiles launched, followed almost immediately by low powered energy weapons. Four direct energy hits were registered, causing the system to shut down those fighters’ own weapons and comm gear.

  Over the next few minutes the two groups of fighters sent spears of low-powered coherent light at each other, but Alexi’s fighters were using their thrusters to move sideways, lowering the aggressors’ accuracy by a small but significant amount.

  Alexi ‘lost’ three fighters before the digital missiles struck home, killing twenty-one additional fighters, leaving them with eight. Since they were well outside even heavy missile range of the Krakow, they attempted to retreat, losing three more.

  Meanwhile the large outer force drifted into range and was lit up by energy weapons, followed immediately by sixty-four missiles.

  It turned into a turkey shoot. Alexi lost seven fighters, taking thirty-nine out of the forty-eight.

  The remaining fighters chose to continue the assault, and the combination of the Dash 4’s of Gamma plus the Dash 6’s eliminated them well short of heavy missile range.

  Admiral Lee privately sent his congratulations.

  The Netherlands jumped in, and promptly declared an emergency.

  It was taken under tow and three days later settled into orbit. It nearly lost bottle containment and the resulting spike killed its main power.

  Within six hours they’d begun tearing open the hull to gain access to the engine room, and shuttles were bringing up replacement bottles, cabling and related controls.

  Their transfer to Lubya was getting put off.

  Admiral Lee threw everything he had at the carrier. While crews swarmed through the engines, other crews installed kits to the mix of fighters on the carrier, struggling to silence their noise.

  The Krakow sat in orbit just forward of the Netherlands. They went through all their fighters, replacing anything that looked like it might not be up to standards and loaded three spare bottles plus capacitors for the ship itself. Lubya was a very backward system and might not have spare parts.

  It took five days to replace the damaged hardware. Admiral Lee commed both ships, “I’m ordering you to depart for Lubya. Finish any remaining repairs and maintenance en route. You are being attached to Seventh Fleet, but that may change. If Seventh is still out, I want the Krakow to patrol the outer system while the Netherlands continues to wo
rk up her fighters. Once that is accomplished, I want the Netherlands for system protection, freeing the Krakow for offensive operations. I’ve uploaded some schematics for the Dash 4’s; they are noisy as hell but with some simple modifications you can quiet them a bit. I expect those upgrades to be completed by the time you make port. We know the modifications work, but you have to ensure the work is done correctly. The best way to do that is to run them flat out and measure their radiation. Questions?’

  There were none.

  Six hours later the two huge carriers creaked and groaned into motion and began accelerating away from the immense planet. Admiral Lee sighed in relief – he’d worried that Congress would pass a law, appropriating them to guard Aditi or something equally bad.

  Chapter 42

  Chief Elliot Kana, Lubya System

  Kana sat in the huge mess on the primary lunar Navy base, eating an early breakfast. The journey from the Void to Lubya, the closest system to the site of their alien encounter had taken four tortuous days, two of which were spent in an attempt to ensure that they would be able to jump out without being detected, and the other two in a series of jumps, each one followed by a long wait to see if they’d been followed.

  Lubya was a frontier world, sparsely populated and generally colder than most humans would like. The first colonizers had been Korean, but the civil war had cut them off from all support. Earth sold the license to a pro-Federation Russian consortium and today the original colony had been nearly totally assimilated into the rapidly growing Russian community, now up to about nine million.

  Lubya was right at the outer edge of the fairly narrow band of planets that could sustain human existence. It received less energy from its sun than Earth and had a smaller circumference and shorter day, but virtually the same gravity. It exported heavy metals, the original reason for the colony. Nearly everything else had to be imported, although the colony was finally reaching the point where it could afford the relatively expensive fabrication machinery necessary to build it’s own shuttles, ground transportation, and the various necessities of an advanced technological world.

  There was a known growth curve where, as the population base grew, the ability to become self sustaining was reached and passed, but only after arduous and very expensive support from the parent world. From that point to the one where the world began to generate profits and increase the average per capita income, the time frame was far shorter.

  Lubya had only reached that point of self-sustainment a generation earlier. Today it’s mines were producing increasingly large amounts of precious metals and rare earths. At the same time, the planet was beginning to be able to grow nearly all of its own food, even a little coffee and other products that a generally cold to frigid planet was unable to easily grow in sufficient amounts.

  Taken as a whole, however, the planet was still forced to import most of its technology and consumer goods from Earth and a few other net exporters, including Elyse.

  As he stood to leave, a Senior Chief passed him and almost skidded to a stop. She looked directly at him and asked, “Are you Kana? Master Chief Elliot Kana?” He nodded, looking at her nametag. He blinked, “Senior Chief Cadiz? The fleet martial arts champion?” she smiled, “Not currently, but yes. Are you coming or going?”

  He smiled, “Hard to say in today’s Navy.” She nodded somberly, “Yes, no and maybe. Master Chief, we have a mutual acquaintance. Had. I served with Linda, your wife. I had been TDY to the Los Angeles when the Battle of York broke out, and…well you know the story. She talked a great deal about you, but even so, I was very surprised to see her return from leave a married woman. I always wanted to meet you, so this is a nice coincidence.”

  He pointed at a chair and sat back down with her. He asked, “She talked about me?” She nodded, “Yes, we didn’t have all that much down time – I don’t imagine anyone who has ever served on a 2nd gen destroyer ever did, but she would read to me your correspondence and talk about you, what she thought you were like, what she hoped you would be like.”

  He shook his head, “Men and women are indeed very different.” She agreed, “Yes we are, and thank God for little favors. I visit her grave whenever I can. I quite like the fact that she is buried in Haifa rather than on Nasser. Did you ever remarry? Where have you served?”

  He shook his head, “No, I never did. I spent much of the next decade on destroyers and even a frigate; a cruiser, the old Buenos Aires; and I’m now on the Essex. What about you?”

  They traded service histories for the next few minutes but she returned to the subject of his marriage, “Why didn’t you ever remarry?” He blinked in mild surprise, but answered honestly, “Linda and I didn’t have much time together, but after York, I…I don’t know. She was special, and I’m not the easiest man to be with. She made everything easy and smooth, but I’ve never met anyone since who was even remotely willing to put up with me.”

  Mona nodded, “I sometimes wonder if civilians are another separate race of people. I never married, never found anyone who could put up with the long separations, modest pay and the necessity of putting off having children.”

  Kana was slowly beginning to pay more attention to the woman and less attention to the uniform, finding that his original opinion of her as a competent martial artist and sergeant was slowly receding, morphing from the usual view of a sergeant who was female into a female who happened to be a sergeant.

  He had very little experience with females.

  According to scuttlebutt, Mona was a very good Marine, and if his eyes and ears were correct, she was doing a very good job of being a female.

  She hadn’t known that he practiced martial arts, and casually issued an invitation to spar with her.

  Mona was tall and lean, and while she was clearly a woman, she didn’t have much in the way of fat. Her skin was a light mahogany, her eyes very dark and normally opaque, a requirement if one wanted to be a Marine sergeant. Her hair was cut very short, clearly a nod to a long-standing Marine culture that celebrated comfort and utility over looks.

  Kana asked, “When?” She stood, “Now would be good.”

  They went nearly next door to one of several base gyms and changed into workout clothing.

  Both spent several minutes stretching middle-aged muscles and only then did they begin discussing their styles and experience. Mona concluded, “You may not have achieved a black belt, but it would appear that you are competent, and of course your size makes you dangerous. I’d like you to initiate an attack, half-speed for starters, and we’ll go from there.”

  Kana had rarely ever been passive, but this woman intrigued him, and her association with his wife unsettled him, although it would have been difficult to tell the difference between ‘unsettled’ or any other emotion.

  He outweighed her by a large margin, although she was taller than he was, so it came as something of a big surprise when she turned his attempt to grapple with her into an inelegant flop onto the mat, with her on top.

  They broke and he rose to his feet, “I thought you said half-speed?” She smiled like a wolf, “That was half-speed.”

  He laughed and said, “This should be enjoyable.” She beamed, “Based on what evidence?”

  Thirty minutes later they sat on the deck, their backs against the bulkhead, watching a fairly serious match between a much younger pair of Marines.

  Mona said, not looking at him, “So, what do you think?” He shrugged, “They look pretty good.” She smiled, still not looking at him, “No, swabbie, what do you think?” He turned to look at her, “About…?” She sighed, “Linda told me you were intelligent, utterly confident and something of a dope. It would appear that the subsequent years have eroded your intelligence, but you are still a dope.”

  He was surprised into laughter, “I think I…hell, you mean, about you?” She sighed deeply and lithely rose up to her feet, “I already know what you think about me; I meant, are you going to get off that rather impressive ass of yours and invite me to ha
ve supper?”

  He almost dropped the ball, but recovered enough to ask, “When you say, ‘impressive’, do you mean, like the Great Wall of China, seen from space impressive’?”

  She sighed dramatically, “Where and when?” He blew air through his lips, “I was lost at hello; how about you decide.”

  She smiled, “I already did – the canteen, 1900, Dress B uniform.”

  He grinned, “Done.”

  She smiled back, “That’s what you think.”

  She nodded and walked away.

  Supper turned out to be nerve-wracking for Kana. He thought Mona – he no longer thought of her as ‘Sergeant Cadiz’ – looked rather splendid in the colorful ‘B’ uniform. Of course, the ‘A’ uniform was wildly colorful, a nod to a half-millennium of stubbornness, but it was only worn on special occasions, frequently associated with the newly dead.