Oort Rising

by Magnus Victor

  No sense, then, in holding her fire. Decision made, there was no time to waste. While the enemy weapons batteries were well-hidden on the surface of the planetoid, they had revealed themselves when they fired on the Overlord.

  “Main battery, return fire. Two rounds per target,” replied the Captain. “There’s bound to be more emplacements. Fire upon them as they are detected.” In the ground-clutter of Podera, even long-barreled high-power railguns would be almost impossible to spot until they fired. That was one of the risks of being this close.

  “Return fire, aye. Free to engage weapons emplacements as detected, aye.”

  Two more emplacements opened fire, and the Overlord’s starboard railgun battery loosed a flight of projectiles in return. Their icons on the holo-display raced towards their targets. Their impacts were almost anti-climactic. No secondary explosions, only the silent disappearance of six red markers.

  Conagher nodded. That was more like it. The rebels must have armored their magazines, or kept them far from the weapons themselves. They didn't have military-grade deflectors, thankfully, but the enemy had done the best they could to protect their guns. They'd put some effort into this, which meant they valued this particular base. Maybe the Union intel had been right, after all.

  The battery armor wouldn't help them, though. The Overlord and the Tannenberg carried enough ammunition to reduce any surface structure to slag. Without hardened weapons emplacements or docking bays, the rebels would have no way to keep the Navy squadron at a distance, nor to make their own escape if the squadron approached closer. This close, even two ships could easily keep anyone from escaping, and wait for reinforcements to arrive to clean out the base at their leisure They would have to run for it right away, or give up.

  As if to confirm her deduction, the tactical officer called out “Ma'am! Multiple drive signatures detected, designated bogeys one through thirteen. All bogeys are moving away from the station. Bogeys are breaking formation.”

  The Captain examined her own repeater display, built into the command chair. The rebel ships were accelerating very slowly – less than one gee – and their drive traces matched the patterns typical of the gravity-sensitive engines that were used this far out-System. "Let them go for now. Tag them, and set an alert if they change acceleration." At that rate, they would take hours to clear Podera's gravity well far enough to jump.

  Most likely cargo carriers, not personnel transports. Most likely a distraction, as the rebel commander would never put their leaders onto craft that slow. She'd hunt them down later, after the base was reduced.

  “Sure enough, they’re running.” The Commodore crowed. “They didn’t expect us.”

  “And they’re certainly letting us know it. I can’t believe that they didn’t expect us here. They must have gotten a report of their losses at Worzik.” She highlighted the disabled weapons platforms so that the Commodore could see. “There’s no way this was their entire defense.”

  “Perhaps. But they obviously haven’t expected us.” He highlighted an icon on his own display. “Over here, at the station we discussed. They're already evacuating.”

  Conagher focused where the Commodore was pointing, toggling the pre-programmed location to her display for closer detail. She zoomed in, revealing a space elevator extending from the planetoid. A spoked-wheel station, less than a kilometer across, perched halfway up. Three transports hovered near the station, faint grav signatures indicating shuttles running back and forth between the spacefaring ships and the station.

  Sure enough, as she had predicted, the enemy were evacuating. And given the tendencies of the enemy so far, she had no doubt that any enemy leaders would be among the first onto the evacuation vessels.

  Commodore Petrakov seemed to have reached the same conclusion. He keyed the ship-to-ship comm on his console. “Tannenberg, eyes on this location.” He toggled the highlighted station on his detail display to send it to the squadron-wide datanet. “Disable and board these ships, prioritizing taking enemy prisoners. Be on the lookout for ambushes or traps.”

  "Aye, sir" came the reply, the station icon in the squadron holo pulsing green to acknowledge the target. "Targeting hostile craft for capture."

  Petrakov turned back to the captain. “Congratulations. Your plan worked, Captain. Their weapons emplacements here aren't anywhere near as well-shielded as expected. We can afford to go after prisoners rather than shoot them as they flee.”

  She'd realized that whole minutes ago, of course, but it was nice to see that the Commodore had as well.

  The Tannenberg accelerated towards the enemy craft. As the Tannenberg loomed closer, the larger enemy ships accelerated away from the station, leaving the dots of their shuttles behind. Their high-gee acceleration revealed them as personnel transports.

  Excellent. Drive cores that could pull that off this far out-system were damned expensive. Those must be high-priority transports for the enemy. Hopefully, for enemy officers.

  The enemy had to realize that they wouldn't escape the Tannenberg, not with it that close to their fleeing ships. They'd need to make a distraction. Captain Conagher's eyes shot back to the main display just in time to see another rash of red dots flare, around the base of the station's elevator.

  “More weapons platforms firing, ma'am. They're targeting the Tannenberg.” The tactical officer's voice was calmer now. The Overlord was not in danger. And as far as the Tannenberg was from the surface of Podera, she was also out of imminent danger.

  The smaller warship did, however, have to maneuver out of the path of the enemy shots. This let the evacuation ships put a few hundred kilometers more between them and the Tannenberg. Unacceptable.

  “Main battery firing, ma'am.” announced the weapons officer. A few seconds later, “all target batteries destroyed, ma'am. No secondaries.”

  The Tannenberg was almost within grav-beam range of the enemy shuttles trying to escape their station. She was nearly on top of the station itself, maneuvering slightly to avoid outright collision with the giant chunk of rock to which the station was anchored.

  Her attention moved back to the black-marked icons of the destroyed weapons emplacements. She hoped the rebels kept firing those half-hearted salvoes. Neither the Tannenberg nor the Overlord were close enough to the surface to be threatened by such low-velocity cannons. The more enemy weapons lost for no gain, the better.

  All the same, the attack felt almost too easy. Doubt tickled at the back of her mind. The enemy had competent commanders somewhere. The earlier fighting had shown that. But where were they?

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the holo-display pinged red again. But this time the new weapons emplacements were — on the station? Still low-velocity weapons, but much larger than the earlier batteries. But the station couldn't be stable enough — or large enough — for railguns of any meaningful size. They would just tear it apart!

  “Ma'am! Enemy railguns firing on the Tannenberg!”

  Yet there they were. Firing point-blank into the Overlord's squadron-mate. Captain Conagher gritted her teeth. At that range, the deflectors wouldn't stop much.

  Eighteen shots burst forth from the maws of the cannons on the station. Seven missed the Tannenberg, even at that range, as the small station bucked under the recoil of the huge guns. But eleven shots slammed into the warship.

  Most of the Marine complement of the Overlord, including Antoniy, was on the Tannenberg. It had seemed like a good idea when planning the attack, as the combined force would make boarding rebel ships easier, but now she regretted putting the bulk of their fighting forces into unnecessary danger.

  She realized that the combined Marine complement would have staged in the outer hangars of the Tannenberg. Standard military procedure. Faster to get into their own shuttles, faster to board the enemy. But more exposed to enemy fire.

  “Tannenberg reports damage to main reactor. They’re venting it. Tannenberg reports main power lost!”

  Damn! That barrage must
have destroyed many of the hangars where the Marines were staged if it had reached deep enough to hit the reactor. Worse, the Tannenberg had only the one reactor, to the Overlord’s eight. Losing it was critical. She focused her display on the rebel station. The recoil of the large railguns — they must have taken up most of the interior room, a Potemkin disguise — had crumpled it and launched the whole mess away from the Tannenberg. As she watched, the elevator stalk snapped halfway up from the planetoid, unable to hold the strain, and broke away.

  "Acknowledged," she answered, biting back a strong curse. She would not let herself break protocol, not in front of the crew. She looked to the Commodore, her mouth set in a flat line. She would give him exactly half a second to give the right order, or she would.

  “Oh, Hell.” Petrakov grimaced. “Helm, move us closer to the station, flank speed. Prepare to run a grav tether to the Tannenberg. We'll pull her back to stand-off distance.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  That was really the only thing to do under the circumstances. Without power, the Tannenberg was a sitting duck for any remaining enemy weapons. She would have to be shielded and rescued by the Overlord.

  But that would mean letting the enemy transports — and their presumed valuable passengers — escape. Then again, if the enemy had planned enough to hide one-shot railguns in the station, those ships were probably decoys anyways. Almost a waste to destroy them, but targets were targets. “Guns, disable all enemy escape ships and shuttles. Destroy them if you have to.”

  “Aye, ma'am.” The small vessels disappeared in flashes on the display, most replaced by blinking gray icons, others vanishing completely. Some would be damaged more than others, some destroyed outright. But that couldn't be helped. She knew that if there were high-value rebels on those ships, they no doubt had priority on the life-support pods.

  She felt a slight tug as the Overlord accelerated, closing the range between her and the stricken Tannenberg. Less than a thousand kilometers, almost within grav-tether range—

  The room lurched, throwing the Captain against her seat's restraints. The overhead lights, the console displays, even the gravity blinked out for a split-second before returning.

  Thankfully, the ship's software coasted over the power interruption. The consoles and display still functioned, green status lights flicking to red.

  “What the hell was that?” asked the Captain. Nothing had shown on the display, no warning of inbound weapons fire.

  Engineering Officer Li looked at his console, shot out of his seat, and dashed over to one of his junior staffers' console. Brushing the crewman aside, his hands flew over the keyboard. He turned, looking the Captain in the eye, all blood drained from his face. “Ma’am! The fricsim drive has overloaded! It's down, ma'am!”

  “What!?” That was one of the most reliable systems on the ship!

  Li put a finger to his ear, listening through his headset. “Fricsim crew chief says it looks like sabotage. Primary and secondary coolant channels were drained, and the safety restraints were all jammed open.”

  "Who's in charge there?"

  "CPO Torstensson, ma'am," Li shook his head, "one of my best. If he says sabotage, then it was sabotage."

  Damn. She didn't want to believe that they had been betrayed, but she had to. But by whom? She'd personally vetted Li and his entire senior staff, and nobody else had high-enough level access to the drive. To get past all of the safeguards, you'd need to remove all of the cover panels, which never happened except when – her eyes widened as a realization struck her – it was being repaired.

  There was still a glimmer of hope. Maybe the saboteurs did not fully know the system's weak points. “Can the drive be repaired?”

  “We’ve got a damage-control crew en-route to see if they can, ma'am. But we're short-handed. I wouldn't bet on it.”

  "Navy crew?" she asked, and got an answering nod. Good. The Miner's Union repair crew had worked on the fricsim drive. They were the most probable saboteurs. What the hell were they playing at? Could that have been the real purpose of the 'liaison' they had sent aboard earlier? But how the hell had they managed it? He'd been watched by her crew ever since he came aboard, and there were layers of failsafes and double-checks on everything the repair crew did. Maybe Jones had just been a distraction. She saved that train of thought for later – for now, she had to contain the problem.

  Most of the Union repair crew had disembarked the previous day, but a few of them had been retained aboard to finish repairs. Including liaison Jones. Turning to the bridge Marine officer, she barked “Secure the remaining Union crew, search them and take them to the brig. Double the watch on Mr. Jones. He is not to leave his quarters. For his own safety.”

  It wasn't really a lie, she mused. If word got out, someone in the crew might kill him. Discipline only went so far. She would deal with the saboteurs later. But right now, the Tannenberg was in danger. “What is our maneuverability without the fricsim drive?”

  “Barely there, ma’am. We can brute-force the deflector screens to move us, but we won’t get above ten gees of acceleration.”

  That was practically nothing compared to what the Overlord could do normally, faster than civilian transports, but not much use in combat. Still, it was enough for basic maneuvering, at least. “Better than nothing. Move us in.”

  “Aye, ma'am.”

  This whole attack was turning into a fiasco. The rebels, supposedly on the run, if the Union were to be believed, had managed to sucker-punch a Navy squadron. And if the Overlord couldn't reach the smaller warship very soon, the enemy might even destroy a Navy capital ship. That was the sort of propaganda victory that brought in yet more support to this sort of insurgency. Maybe that was the rebels' 'bigger goal' she had mentioned to Petrakov.

  The engineering officer interrupted her thoughts. “Ma'am! Damage-control crew at the fricsim drive report primary engine coils are half-melted! The drive's down for good!”

  Of course. When it rains, it pours.

  Before she could respond, the tactical officer announced, “Ma’am! Gravitational trace, coming out from behind the planetoid. Designated bogey fourteen.”

  “Any I.D. on the trace?”

  “No, ma'am. It's partially shielded by the planet's grav well.”

  “Very well. Estimated tonnage?”

  “Five point eight gigatons, ma’am.”

  Larger than any rebel ships yet encountered. As big as the Tannenberg, or—

  “Ma’am! Bogey fourteen emerging from behind the planetoid. Target identified as the Verdun! She's firing on us, ma’am! Four rounds incoming, one kilometer spread, velocity zero-point-three-five-cee. Impact in eight seconds.”

  "Full screens!" she called. The better choice.

  "Aye, ma'am."

  With her drives crippled, diverting screen power to maneuver out of the way was not an option, because they would never dodge in time. But at least that left plenty of power available for deflectors. The ship's computers automatically re-routed deflector-screen power to the emitters on the side facing the Verdun.

  The enemy salvo struck the Overlord. Again, the sound of the impacts was barely audible on the bridge. “Three impacts on section O3 – 02 – 27. Minor damage to outer armor belt.”

  “Hah!” exclaimed one of the bridge crew. “They’ll have to do better than that!”

  Captain Conagher glowered at the crewman for breaking discipline, and then smiled humorlessly to herself. The problem with saying that sort of thing is that it tended to come true. Obviously, the commander of the Verdun would know their main guns were pointless. So what was their strategy, and how could she interfere with it? “Main battery, return fire at the Verdun. Target her external weapons.”

  The Overlord's coaxial, fixed railguns were really a better choice for destroying such a large enemy ship, but they could only aim within a limited angle from the bow of the Overlord, and with the maneuvering drive down, the ship was slow to turn. The main battery guns, mounted on turrets, w
ere a more flexible choice.

  “Aye, ma’am.”

  The Overlord’s bow railguns battery fired a salvo towards the smaller warship, spread to nullify the target's evasive maneuvers. Twelve bright orange icons split off from the Overlord on the holo-display. The projectiles screamed through space at over half the speed of light, but on the display they moved slowly, taking agonizing seconds to cross the screen and intersect with the Verdun.

  “Target hit, ma’am.” Announced the weapons officer. But the enemy ship's icon on the display did not change. “No effect. Their deflectors are up.”

  Damn. But of course, expected. Their engineers must have been top-notch to re-install military-grade deflectors on the frame of the Verdun. “Can we hit them with missiles from here?” The missiles carried aboard had their own fricsim drives. No deflector could stop them. They would be able to cripple the Verdun without destroying her.

  And that might be necessary. Captain Conagher eyed the battle display warily. The Tannenberg was unshielded and unable to maneuver, making her a sitting duck. If the enemy destroyed her — and Conagher was not certain why they hadn't done so yet — then capturing the Verdun might be the Overlord's only way out of this mess.

  Most of the squadron's Marines may have been killed aboard the Tannenberg, but there was no way that the rebels had enough manpower to fully crew the Verdun with soldiers trained for boarding actions.

  The weapons officer shook his head. “Out of range, ma'am. This far out-system, they're largely ballistic. Their homing drives won't work outside our grav field.”

  “I see. Helm, rotate ship to bring the co-ax to bear. After firing, we'll close with the Tannenberg.” It would bring them closer to the Verdun, too, but the enemy ship was too much of a threat not to neutralize. It would have to be destroyed, then, unless it could first be rendered combat-ineffective. “Weapons, full power. Destroy the Verdun on first co-ax salvo.”

  Before the weapons officer could confirm the captain's orders, the tactical officer interjected. “Ma'am! The Verdun is changing her course, ma’am. She’s maneuvering around the planetoid; she'll have line-of-fire to the Tannenberg in thirty-seven seconds!”