Family Law 2: The Long Voyage of the Little Fleet

by Mackey Chandler

  "Oh really? I'll shower and join you in perhaps fifteen minutes. I presume it will wait that long?"

  "Easily," Persevere told him. "They are still over three hours outside our engagement envelope."

  "But the sooner we respond the better," Chance decided. "Silence might be mistaken for timidity."

  Chance floated in and took his couch, hair still wet. He seemed rested and cheerful beyond all reason. Persevere wondered if he was really that unconcerned or if at least some of it was an act for his subordinates, not only him, but the crew on the Sharp Claws.

  Chance snugged a single belt to hold himself in place, changed his chair settings a little from what he'd left them and brought the com screen up, declaring, "Let's see what they say."

  "Humans! You are of the party who made war upon our vessel in (Badger system 80). Stand to and await our arrival. We shall board you and make an thorough inspection of what we are dealing with. If you grass eaters run we shall pursue and destroy you, whether in this star system or when we catch up. You will deactivate all weapons and submit to our inspection and questions. Acknowledge this!"

  "Charming aren't they?" Chance asked. "They don't seem to realize we have Derf on the Sharp Claws also. I suppose I should make a conciliatory reply and try to defuse the situation, but I don't have it in me, given their arrogance. Recording," Chance instructed the com computer. "Translate and transmit to the Biter fleet."

  "When you address another it is politeness in our culture to identify yourself. If you have no family or nation that will acknowledge you as their own, then certainly you must have at least a familiar name for those around you. Surely you aren't simply addressed as 'Hey You' on your flight deck. I am Chance, of the family Ochocinco, a Human as you have observed, of the nation of Fargone and on detached command from the private, multiracial exploration group, known as The Little Fleet, which is actively commanded by a Derf, not a Human.

  "You are misinformed if you have been told we are herbivores. We damn well eat the bloody carcasses of just about anything we can run down and have since the first of us found out how handy a pointy stick could be. We aren't running anywhere and if you have any sense at all you will alter your course back to your previous path and proceed on to meet the fellows who shot up your ship. They just nipped the ass end off of it, in a fit of politeness I won't copy. I'll blow you all to hell if you continue to approach us. Since you seem to enjoy frankness, I hope that was sufficiently plain. I suggest when you meet the remainder of our Little Fleet you act with more tact or they will kill you with even less discussion. End message."

  "Mr. Wilson, I think you may as well recall our crew. I expect the Bills to ask us to stand off from their station so they don't suffer collateral damage. I take it from the way the Biters speak to people that everyone here about is afraid to say boo to them."

  "Aye, sir. Giving them a recall notice. Do you want to take com back personally?"

  "No, just to the Biters was sufficient. You are doing fine. I like distancing myself a bit. It moderates how they speak, makes them think a little more to go through a third party. Likely makes them wonder what else I'm up to. Tell our crew not to display any unseemly haste. We don't want to project concern."

  "Aye sir. Fussy is on com inquiring if he understands the language sufficiently to support his idea you were taunting the Biters? He wants to know if you would prefer to engage them rather than the other vessels of our fleet?"

  "Tell him I simply didn't think it mattered what I said to them. They had already determined a course of action and nothing I said short of a surrender and please don't hurt me, would have satisfied them, so I might as well please myself."

  "He says he'd rather fight an angry enemy than a calm one."

  "Indeed, there is that. Tell him it's much the same with our races too."

  "Ah, as predicted, the Bills respectfully ask if you could undock and direct your space battle away from their station?"

  "Ha! Tell them yes and thank you for asking so nicely."

  "Wow, the translation software has really gotten good. They say, "Good Luck".

  "Please ask them to keep the system scan of the action confidential. It would be damaging to us for other Biters to come in system and be instructed how to deal with us from system scan archives."

  Chance was right, everyone did hesitate longer and compose their words with more care if they were relayed. It was interesting and he'd remember it.

  "Station Control points out they may carry the details of the engagement home themselves."

  "No they won't. They'll be dead. You may inform them so."

  "I think you finally got through to them," Persevere told him."I think that shocked them. Ah, our guys are at the lock, coming in."

  "Thank you Mr. Wilson. Please tell them to secure for maneuvering and they can ride in their bunks for now. I won't let them miss out on observing the action up here," he promised. "I'll speak directly with Sharp Claws now. You can still field any discussion from the Bills or Fussy for me."

  "Aye."

  "Sharp Claws, We shall accommodate the Station Master and rise orbit away from the station. Follow our lead please Mr. Frost. Numbers are being transmitted to your navigator. I will charge you with fighting your ship, it's not my intention to micro-manage you. I would appreciate it if you don't leave any survivors to carry word back to their world. They already have too much information about our capabilities and our psychology, from engaging them back at system 80."

  "Yes sir, following your lead," Frost acknowledged.

  "You'd have vaporized them?" Persevere asked, off com.

  "Yes, dead men carry no tales, Chance said, holding his mute button, "I'm not being critical of our fleet commander, I understand Gordon was also showing the newly met fellows we could be moderate. Facing six ships I don't feel we have the luxury of moderation."

  "No sir, I had to think on it a bit to understand why we can engage that many," he admitted.

  "I think we could take eight, or I wouldn't try to do six," Chance told him.

  "Yes, I can see that, from the engagement I was picturing."

  "Past eight, you are depending on uncommon missile accuracy, stupid tactics from your enemy, the pea shooter engaging a target which does not maneuver, a fast recycle time on the beam weapon, or an untested susceptibility to electronic countermeasures."

  "Yes sir. Just about what I was thinking, but it took me awhile to play out the scenarios in my mind while you were sleeping."

  "That's the scary thing about Gordon," Chance explained, suddenly chatty. "He'll look over at you without any pause or hesitation and issue orders with all those factors weighed in and balanced, that you took an hour or more to carefully think through."

  "I've seen the video," Persevere said.

  "I've watched it a dozen times," Chance said, "wishing I knew Derf better, to read his expression, but I learned a lot watching the human crew on his bridge."

  "How do they react, sir?"

  "The scary thing is they don't. They just key in or actuate what they were ordered without hesitation. Nobody looks surprised, or lifts their head to look at him, no matter how outrageous the order. And he doesn't look at them like he's checking to see they are compliant. They trust him. I'd hate like hell to have to fight a ship he's commanding."

  "And yet he didn't come out of any academy, indeed, I read that he left home very young, so he missed the usual military training all keep Derf get."

  "I sincerely doubt what he does could be taught anyway," Chance scoffed. "You can try to teach basic tactics, but there is no course on how to be a military genius. You either have the intelligence and the brain to integrate that much complex information quickly and fearlessly, or you don't. I know my limits and talents are not at that level. Fortunately I've done everything one can to avoid being at the mercy of such a person. I picked the right side!"

  Persevere couldn't help smiling at that advice.

  "Everyone seems talked out. No more messages waiti
ng?"

  "No sir, clean board," he replied.

  "Good," Chance said, "Now we wait a bit," and he slouched back in his couch and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  "Sir, Captain Frost says the Biters are maneuvering. They are bunching up tight in a circle, spaced about a half kilometer apart. He is feeding us his tactical screen and flight deck audio and says they are changing formation much further out than the range at which the Biter vessel was hit in system 80."

  "Hmm," Chance sat up to examine the plot with the Sharp Claws and Biter ships still well separated. "Gordon did a fire and coast shot in 80. They are going by the reports from that ship, worried we have much greater range than we do in reality. That worked fine when they kept to their course. These fellows now know that one of our missiles that has gone inertial and appears inert may come back to life. Frost is right not to expend a pair of x-heads on them outside the range of powered flight. They might go to some effort now, to move away from a coasting pair, even if it delays their arrival and uses up a good deal of delta V."

  "Why would they bunch up like that? I'm no tactician, but it looks stupid."

  "They still don't understand what hit their ship in 80. If they are using only chemical weapons they can't understand what could have reached them in the time frame observed. They know it wasn't the sort of shrapnel their weapons would generate, and to them a beam weapon is something generated on a ship that would be of much lower power and unable to do damage at those ranges. The idea a missile could explosively generate a much more intense beam is going to take a real stretch of imagination for them. I can see they might think we have some sort of stealth weapon which got through to their ship that they simply couldn't paint with their radar as one possibility."

  "So they are bunched up for their defensive systems to work better?"

  "Almost certainly, yes. They have some sort of short range system to damage a missile as it comes at their ship, but it is good only the sort of threat that has to get much closer to detonate, to do any damage. If their defense is a gun that throws physical projectiles, or a pattern of them like a shotgun, they can throw much more at an incoming threat close to each other. If they have lower powered beam weapons, same thing, they can bring several to bear if the range is approximately the same for several of them. Spread out, every ship would be much weaker on its own – against the sort of weapons they expect."

  "That's only helpful if your enemy has a slower rate of fire that a group can intercept, but a single ship couldn't," Persevere thought aloud.

  "Indeed, you are correct, Mr. Wilson. Which also likely tells us something about the rate of fire of their offensive systems. Their own missiles are fairly dear, or their defense, as you say, wouldn't be configured that way. They can't fire a barrage of many cheap missiles. I'd have acted much differently, but their aggressive nature betrays them."

  "What would you have done different?" Persevere asked sharply, looking surprised.

  "Why, I'd assume that if I couldn't take a new enemy with five ships, chances are six wouldn't do the job either. So I'd have held my fastest ship back from being committed to the fight, with orders to run home and show the recordings of how it went should I be defeated."

  "But they can't display any uncertainty can they?"

  "No, given what we are seeing of their mental makeup, showing any doubt would be regarded as contemptible weakness in the face of grass eaters. I'd sooner give away half our missile range than the deadly weapon of advantage their haughty attitude gives us."

  * * *

  "Sir, Station Scan announces the Badger ship Dart has undocked and is assuming a higher orbit behind us. Radar confirms we have a return off a ship separating from the station and following our approximate course. How should we mark it on our tactical display? Friend or foe?"

  "Neutral shipping. They are not armed, so they really are of no threat or help," Frost replied. I'd say they want to be in a better position to observe, without being in the line of fire themselves."

  "Biters are holding course and position," the tactical officer reported. "they will enter into our effective missile envelope in ten minutes."

  "Hold fire another ten minutes, until they are inside our range further. If they dispersed at full acceleration as soon as we fired that could still cause us a problem at extreme range. Program the missiles to diverge slightly to each side and turn in at the last, for head on accuracy and coverage. Make sure they favor a target towards their respective sides for the primary beam and as many secondary beams on target as they can match within their effective angle of fire. Detonate them at five thousand kilometers, that should still be outside their defensive systems range."

  "Sir, they bunched up so tight all of them will be within the effective cone. Chances are the four non-primary targets will get two beams each since they don't have any effective divergent velocity and they are large targets in cross section."

  "Good. I still want both tubes being reloaded as soon as the first shots are away. If something goes wrong I hope to have a second go at them before they get within their weapon range of us."

  "Loading crews are suited up and strapped in right next to the reloads," Tac said.

  "Very well, fire upon reaching the ten minute time tic," Frost commanded.

  * * *

  "Do you have any idea how many weapons the Sharp Claws carries?" Dauntless, XO of the Dart asked.

  "I've no idea," Captain Fussy admitted. "One would hope six or more. If he doesn't, I hope he'd be smart enough to run. If he shoots at one or two of the Biters and is empty I'd expect he'd immediately take off and we'll be right behind him. Even if he doesn't hit them, the Biters will be in a foul mood for his trying and ready to fire on anything they see."

  "Separation! We have two weapons from the Sharp Claws. That's much further away from them than we've ever seen Biter ships shoot at each other."

  "Maybe they will coast a bit. They're pulling away at fifty G. Can they sustain that all the way to the target?"

  After a couple minutes the XO said, "Apparently they can. They are aimed a little to each side. I wonder why? Could they be assigned a target at launch?"

  "Past the half way mark," he said a bit later, "surely they won't wait to see what these do before launching more? Turning into the targets. They..."

  The telescopic screen went black in the middle from overload, the edges a white blaze. The radar went berserk with snow, then dark and the radio emitted a hash of static. Out the forward view port two white hot spheres, tiny in the distance, appeared to the eye as one bright point they were so close. They were painful to look at and as they expanded and cooled through yellow and orange to a brief sullen red over a couple seconds, they were hard to see through the flash blobs on their shocked eyes, before fading completely away.

  "I've popped about half our breakers here!" The radar and com tech called. He was resetting them as fast as he could.

  "Give the radar priority," Fussy ordered. "Those went off well away from the Biter ships. I don't know if they made them detonate early or what. Do they have any defensive systems that reach out that far?" he asked. "I find it hard to believe they could have hit them with any sort of projectile. Maybe the Biters have some new beam weapon to intercept incoming weapons?"

  "Radar rebooting. We should have returns in a half minute."

  The screen painted a couple of cycles to silence. There wasn't any return.

  "Is the radar working?" Fussy asked.

  "I'll turn it toward the Sharp Claws to test it," the tech said.

  Ten seconds later the destroyer showed on the screen.

  "The Biter ships," the radar tech said and stopped. Unwilling to complete the obvious statement.

  "Gone... " Fussy said.

  "But, there's no debris. There should be pieces. At this range, this frequency of radar should show anything as long as your forearm," he protested.

  Fussy just looked at him. "Now we know why he only fired two missiles."

 
"What are we dealing with here?" the tech asked, frightened. "And this is their smaller ship."

  "Persevere told us to watch carefully, so we could report what happened. I intend to do that. I also intend to make clear we don't want the Biters to ever acquire such weapons. Can you imagine what they would do with this sort of power?"

  "I'm scared of anyone having this kind of power," the tech said.

  "And yet, they didn't come in ordering us about and taking what they want," Fussy pointed out.

  "Yes. I wonder if we'd be so restrained, wielding that sort of power?"

  * * *

  "You can take your time now," Frost's second in command, Barbara Wentworth, told the missile loaders. "Our targets are destroyed, so we want you to slow down and load as carefully as you would load the tubes in peacetime. In fact go back and double check all the connections and grapples you've already secured."

  * * *

  "Captain Fussy, would you care to continue along with us to your chart system number 68 and continue our survey?" Chance asked."

  "Just like that? Nothing to say about the Biters?"

  "What is there to say? They bit off more than they could chew, didn't they? We warned them and they ignored it. I'm sad, but better them than us. Do you want to conduct some sort of a memorial service or something? I don't know your custom, but we would respect it."

  "Memorial? I might throw a party to celebrate the motherless monsters journey through the seventy two levels of their hell. I imagine they got an express ride to the lowest level."

  "Ah, we're of a like mind then."

  "But we have a lot of questions how you could do what we just saw."

  "I imagine the representatives from Derfhome and Fargone back in system 80 will be discussing that sort of thing with your people. I'm just a task force commander of two minor ships. It's certainly not my place to play at ambassador."

  "All right. I guess I can see that. Maybe I'm reaching above my station too. Set your course and timing and we'll continue our tour."