Exodus: Machine War: Book 3: Death From Above

by Doug Dandridge

  “Enemy ships are firing,” yelled out one of the Tactical Analysts.

  “Target?”

  “It looks like the planet, sir. And all of their other launches are starting to shift vectors.”

  Lysenko didn’t even have to ask what they were shifting their vectors to, even though the analysts might not know for sure for some time. The planet. And he was not surprised at the next pronouncement from the Tactical Officer.

  “Their fleet is accelerating on a different vector, sir. It looks like they’re going to try a run out of the system.”

  The enemy had figured now that they were unlikely to win a fleet engagement, so they were doing the logical thing. Trying to destroy the jewel of the system and run away with what they could salvage.

  Lysenko cursed under his breath. Some of the flag officers had pushed for stationing most of the fleet outside of the hyper barrier, coming in behind the enemy and launching close, all the while blocking their exit. Others had thought that protecting the planet was tantamount, and the fleet should be lying doggo in space about halfway from the barrier to the planet. Wittmore had called for the fleet to stay close to the planet, but he was a ground pounder, and his opinion didn’t matter in a fight like this. And the Admiral in charge had decided to split the difference between all three sets of opinions, which had led to the fleet being separated as they were. The ships near the gas giant could protect the resources there, while being in a position to cut off enemy retreat and possibly hit them in the flank, while the main fleet would protect the planet and come out to challenge the enemy when the time was right.

  And I inherited this abortion of a plan, he thought, a sour expression on his face. He basically had three split forces, four if counting the carriers beyond the barrier, none able to support each other and capable of being defeated in detail. The only positive was that he had hurt the enemy more than expected with the wormhole launches and intertialess fighter attacks, something that the Machines were possibly overestimating, and now they were running, after unleashing everything they had at the planet. That and his offensive force near the the planet was now larger than the Machines had expected, thanks to the reinforcements that had come through the gate.

  “Please inform his Majesty that while I’m thankful for the forces he had given me, I am requesting some more missile defense ships,” he told his Com Officer, hoping there were some more to give.

  “The Emperor said he would try to get us some more, but it might take some time.”

  Something we have very little of, thought Lysenko. But he knew that trying to press the man would not get them any faster. The Monarch would do what he could if he said he would. The military had come to trust the man, who had after all been one of their own until a short period in the past.

  “Conventional fighter wings are about to engage the first wave of incoming missiles, sir,” reported another Com Officer. “Contact in three minutes.”

  The Admiral nodded and returned his attention back to the plot that showed over three hundred fighters closing on eight hundred and fifty missiles. Normally those fighters would only have to concentrate on their shots at the enemy weapons, and avoiding collisions on the way through the formation. But these weapons had their own defenses.

  It took about two minutes for the fighters and enemy weapons to interpenetrate, both firing missiles at each other, followed up by lasers. When they had passed, one hundred and twenty-three fighters had been destroyed, along with almost two hundred of the enemy weapons. Lysenko stared at the plot for some moments after the numbers populated on the holo. He could feel his stomach clenching as he faced the fact that over six hundred people had just died, in exchange for less than two hundred AIs. That was not a tactic he would endorse, though he was sure he would have to do it again sometime in the future, maybe even in this battle. But the inertialess fighters seemed to be the way to go, if only there were enough of them.

  Looking back at the plot he could see that the fighters that had hit the Machine weapons were at an orientation where they could strike at the next wave with very little in the way of vector change. So the future is here already, he thought as he turned to the Com Officer to give the order to send those three shredded fighter wings back into the grinder.

  * * *

  The AI could not feel regret, but its algorithms pointed out the errors it had made that were of its own making, as well as those setbacks that it had no fault in. Reviewing the results, it realized it should have driven straight for the planet. That, or launch everything it had at the planet, then challenge the enemy fleet to come out to the barrier and battle it out. That would have assured the destruction of the primary target and given the force an out if they couldn’t handle what the enemy sent at them. Of course it wouldn’t have known about the number of inertialess fighters the humans had deployed, or the number of close wormhole missile launches coming from untraceable launch platforms.

  There had been a number of explosions coming from the second launch at the predicted point of the following force, preceded by the weapons falling off the plot as their graviton emissions ended. There had also been the graviton emissions of numerous human weapons at full power, from their profiles counter missiles. It had no way of knowing how much it had hurt that force, but it was sure it had.

  Running the numbers, it could see that there was very little chance that the humans would be able to stop all of its weapons. There was also very little chance that the enemy would be able to get sufficient forces in place to keep its fleet from leaving the system. And from there it was almost untouchable, due to the graviton beam equipped ships in the force. Once in hyper they could go where they wanted to in this area, causing as much havoc and damage as possible, always holding the advantage. They could even go thought hyper VI much faster than the enemy ships of the same propulsion level, due to their ability to accelerate at more than twice the human rate, and the immunity they held for most radiation. The VIIs could of course keep up, and pass them at will, but there didn’t seem to be that many of them. And the explosions blossoming in space, now visible in the distance, showed that many of those vessels had just been destroyed.

  Graviton emissions appeared on the plot near to a pair of the missiles swarms. Moments later weapons fell off the plot, a sign that the inertialess fighters had struck again. Those things were the complication that the Machine couldn’t figure out how to deal with. It needed the same tech, but unless it captured one, that probably wouldn’t happen. The ship that had been captured had revealed some tech secrets, including the technology of hyper VII travel. But the Machines had no clue on how to replicate the faster than light fighters that couldn’t be tracked, beyond the picking up of some anomalous readings that conveyed little information besides the craft operating in the near vicinity.

  The AI turned its attention back outward as the following force, or what was left of them, started moving. It picked up a total of twenty-nine vessels, meaning it had taken out about the same number or more. And now the remainder of that force was starting to boost their maximum to try to intercept the Machine force. It didn’t look like they would make it, but they could continue to put out wormhole launched missiles the entire way. Except that they hadn’t since the Machine weapons had struck. The other sources, which it guessed had to be inertialess fighters shifting position, were still out there, but it looked as if one of the sources, the launch platforms in the scout force, was definitely gone.

  The decision made, the AI ordered all of its vessels to shift vectors again. The path would slowly curve, and now the enemy force would be able to make the intercept. It might not like the result, but that was not the concern of the AI.

  * * *

  “You understand your orders, Admiral.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.”

  “The planet must be saved, even if you have to put every one of your ships in the way of their weapons.”

  “And the fleet that is about to get away?”

  “They seem to be mo
ving into the trap, Admiral. And we can deal with whatever gets away later.”

  Lysenko looked over at the plot and had to agree with the Emperor. The enemy force was shifting their vector to roll over the scout force, which was just what they wanted.

  “Orders are going out now, your Majesty,” said Lysenko, watching as the banks of com techs and officers sent out the commands, setting in motion the movements. The battle was going on over billions of cubic kilometers of space, with five separate missile waves of enemy weapons maneuvering, two already on course for the planet, the other three changing vectors to come in at the world. Five wings of inertialess fighters clawing their way into new attack patterns. And the two major forces of ships trying to get into defensive positions. The outer force, moving away from the gas giant, was already launching, sending weapons after the enemy missiles. There were only two waves they could actually get any missiles into, but they could at least send everything they had since they were no longer targeted by any enemy weapons.

  Another of the inertialess fighter wings translated from warp and went into the attack against one of the weapon swarms, knocking more of the missiles from space, thinning the swarm, but it was not enough.

  “Let me know how Hasselhoff’s ambush goes,” said the Emperor.

  “Of course, your Majesty.” The Admiral wanted to laugh. He knew the Emperor was able to tap into any communication over the wormhole net that he wanted to. He would know what was going on with Hasselhoff as soon as the Admiral did.

  “Ask Hasselhoff to send me a status as soon as she is able,” said Lysneko, turning to the officer at that station. He was sure she would tell him if there were any problems with the deployment. And she didn’t need him looking over her shoulder at this point, when she needed to supervise the deployment.

  If they pulled this off, then one part of the problem presented by this Machine force was solved. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

  * * *

  Hasselhoff watched as her twenty-nine vessels boosted into place. She had lost some ships to the Machine weapon wave. Not many, as the wormhole launched counter missiles, coming out as packets of ten missiles in one body, had taken out a high percentage of those weapons, three hundred counters a launch per platform, closing with the incoming weapons starting at over a light minute out. Only a couple of dozen weapons had actually gotten into attack range, and she had lost three ships, a light cruiser and two destroyers. Not that any losses weren’t bad, but it could have been much worse.

  Her twenty-nine vessels were actually sixty-seven ships, linked in pairs and triplets, boosting together as units. To the enemy they were twenty-nine vessels, the minor differences of their drive emissions blending from proximity. And every one of them had their holds and hangers packed with mines, each with a small fusion drive unit attached. And the wormhole of her flagship? It was now open on the hull and disgorging mines, dozens a second, coming through at a slow speed, their drives lighting as soon as they had gained some separation from their fellows.

  “We’re releasing the assets, ma’am,” called out her Force Tactical Officer.

  “Let me know if you have any problems,” she told the officer. There shouldn’t be any, since they had run the simulations on this setup a score of times. She looked at the readouts that were showing the weapons they were dropping into space. There were already several hundred of the weapons boosting away toward the Machine force, more entering space every second. After two minutes there were several thousand of the weapons in space. Minutes after boosting they cut their drives, drifting on a course that would keep them between her group and the enemy force.

  “All deployed, Ma’am.”

  “Then relay the order for the fleet to get the hell out of here,” Hasselhoff said to her Com Officer. The ships started their boost within seconds of each other, still linked, heading out on a path that challenged the enemy to chase them. Hasselhoff smiled as she watched the vector arrows on the enemy ships start to slowly change, they obviously taking the bait for an easy kill, just like Lysenko wanted. I just hope there aren’t still enough of them to take me out when the trap is sprung.

  “Fighter wings are heading in toward the enemy,” called out another Com Tech, this one a Klassekian. “ETA, thirty-one minutes.”

  “And the enemy should hit the minefield in twenty-eight minutes.,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  “And time from their hitting the minefield until they are within laser range of us?”

  “Seven minutes, ma’am.”

  It’s going to be close, she thought. Too close? There really wasn’t anything she could do about that. Everything was in place, and they were committed. Hopefully, so was the enemy.

  * * *

  “Just make sure you don’t come out in the middle of that minefield,” said Commodore Slavarta over the com to his wing commanders, transmitted through the Klassekian com techs.

  “If the information Admiral Hasselhoff is sending you is spot on, sir, I don’t think we’ll have a problem.”

  And that information should be spot on, as the wing commander had said. Both wings had come out to the carriers after their last attack, rearming with more missiles, then heading back in. There were one hundred and thirty-three of the craft, all that was left of the two wings after battle losses, destroyed and damaged. The Commodore had hoped they would have more, but they had what they had, and hopefully the mine field would have destroyed the bulk of the enemy force.

  If they fall for it¸ thought the Commodore, worrying about all the things that could go wrong. It should come as a surprise to the enemy. That was the only good thing about fighting a new war against an enemy that hadn’t had contact with humanity for quite some time. Every trick they had pulled on the Cacas, every tactic the big aliens had successfully used on the humans and their allies, was something new that could be tried on the Machines. And at least the first time it should come as a complete surprise. Again, at least that was the hope.

  * * *

  The AI watched as more of its weapons fell off the plot. The odds were starting to shift a bit toward the survival of the planet. Not much. There was still over a ninety percent chance that one or more of the weapons would strike the planet. It would have preferred surety, but it couldn’t change reality because it would prefer something. That was for flawed organic brains.

  An alert went off from one of the leading ships, then another. They were picking up small objects to their front, identification unknown. At first several of them, then dozens, then hundreds. The AI was just about to order the fleet to change vectors, though it wasn’t possible to avoid them at this point. Before it could issue the command, microseconds, a thousand objects had started sending out active sensor waves, then launched their missiles. It was like nothing the AI had ever seen.

  The Machine ships still reacted with their typical speed, immediately taking the missiles under fire. But they were closing at point five light with the speed of both groups, and the range was only two light seconds. There was only time for one counter missile launch, three cycles of defensive laser fire, and hundreds of the missiles made it into attack range. When the hundreds of bright pinpoints of light faded, there were only fifty-seven Machine ships left, including a mere fourteen capital ships. Almost all were damaged, some heavily. It calculated that it could still take on the damaged scout force still ahead, and then it picked up the signals that heralded that the inertialess fighters were in the area.

  Fifteen seconds later they were jumping into space, twelve light seconds from the Machines and closing at near light speed, coming head on. They launched as soon as they locked, then went back into their warp drives, moving off the plots of the Machines before they could fire on the human craft. The missiles streaked in, many picked off by the counter fire of the Machine ships. Not enough, and when the fire cleared only twenty-eight ships remained, many capable of less than a hundred gravities acceleration.

  If things weren’t bad enough, now the AI, another in
cidence since the flagship was gone, picked up not twenty-nine enemy ships, but sixty-seven of them, changing their boost to close with the Machine force. And leading the way were sixty wormhole launched missiles. By the time the human ships got to within beam weapons range there were only seven badly damaged Machine ships left.

  * * *

  Six hundred and forty-seven Machine weapons from the first wave entered the engagement envelop of the first layer of missile defense ships. The light cruisers started cycling their missiles at the enemy at the five light minute mark, hurling them through accelerator tubes, the weapons cutting in their grabbers and running up to fifteen thousand gravities in a microsecond after leaving the ships. Hundreds were in space within seconds, a thousand before the enemy weapons had hit the four light minute mark. At three thousand counters, almost half the internal magazines of all of the ships, they ceased fire, just before the first collisions occurred. At that point the detonations started, counter missiles hitting incoming weapons and blasting them from space, or detonating on closest approach, attempting to get a proximity kill at the last moment.

  As the weapons, still numbering over three hundred, hit the one light minute mark, the ships released their cell launched missiles, hundreds per vessel. Less than fifty Machine weapons made it through that gauntlet, and the lasers picked off more than half of those. One light cruiser paid the ultimate price as a weapon that had lost its seeker head slammed into it, a very low probability event that was somehow still sure to happen eventually. The remaining weapons hit the engagement envelop of the mostly destroyer second line and were swallowed up.

  Lysenko looked at plot while sighing in relief. It was only the first attack, and four more were on the way, the next due in less than thirty minutes. The ships of his battle fleet, coming back toward the planet, wouldn’t be in position to intercept the incoming weapons with counters until that fifth wave. And there wouldn’t be time to give the picket ships reloads on their counters. What they had was all they would have for this fight.