Starfist:Flashfire

by David Sherman; Dan Cragg

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  * * *

  The bridge of the heavy cruiser CNSS Kiowa was quiet, with only the soft pings of monitors, the metallic tings of settling metal, and the muted voices of officers giving commands and crew responding. Just the normal sounds of a navy ship approaching hostile forces. The tension, though high, wasn’t palpable; what could be felt was more along the lines of violent-action-in-waiting.

  The tensest, though outwardly one of the calmest, person on the bridge was Commander Inap Solwara, the ship’s captain. The main reason for Captain Solwara’s tension was in the command chair mounted next to his; Rear Admiral Hoi Yueng, commander of Task Force 79, then only a few hours away from engaging the Coalition navy cordon around Ravenette, to clear the way for the Amphibious Battle Group following TF79. Admiral Hoi had selected the Kiowa as his flagship for the hastily thrown together task force. While Solwara had been in battle before as skipper of a destroyer, it would be his first time on the bridge of a flagship going into battle. Sitting next to the admiral, he found, was quite different from being the senior man on his own ship.

  “Relax, Captain,” Admiral Hoi said softly. Solwara was pleased that he didn’t jerk at the unexpected words. “I’ll be heading for my CIC shortly, you won’t have me looking over your shoulder during action.”

  “Sir, I . . .”

  “Nonsense, Inap. A captain is always nervous the first time his ship is the flagship. I wouldn’t have planted my flag on the Kiowa if I didn’t have full confidence in you. When the battle begins, fight your ship the same as you would if I was on another ship.”

  “Yessir.” That shouldn’t be difficult. Once the admiral was in his Combat Information Center, directing the entire task force, Solwara should have no more awareness of him than he would if the admiral weren’t on the Kiowa at all.

  Should. But the captain knew that some things were more difficult than they should be, and forgetting the presence of an admiral was one of the more difficult ones.

  Hoi studied the trid schematic displayed on the big screen on the bulkhead in front of the helmsman and found it odd. The same three destroyers orbited Ravenette in equatorial orbits just below geosync. The same three medium and two heavy cruisers circled the planets in lower orbits, only two of them in circumpolar orbits. The four fast frigates moved constantly among the other warships.

  Why were they concentrating on equatorial?

  Starships reentering Space-3 from Beamspace almost always made the transition several days’ inertial flight above or below the plane of the ecliptic in order to reduce the odds of occupying the same space as a piece of space debris, with possibly catastrophic results. Task Force 79 had entered Space-3 along the plane, less than half the normal distance from the objective planet, and used its transition momentum and simple gravity to move its starships toward Ravenette. That admittedly risky tactic, combined with the stealth capabilities of the task force’s starships, should have allowed TF79 to approach within a standard day of orbit before it was spotted by the planetary defense system, which would normally be oriented to approaches from above and below the ecliptic.

  Task Force 79 was now only a few hours from orbit, yet Ravenette’s guardian fleet was in the same defensive formation it had held when the Kiowa’s sensors first detected them—they weren’t responding to the task force’s presence.

  Rear Admiral Hoi felt there was something very, very wrong. At a simple glance, it appeared that Task Force 79 had the advantage of surprise. Even though the Confederation task force’s seven starships were outnumbered by the defenders, they were stronger in both weaponry and defensive measures; on the face of it, TF79 should have relatively little trouble knocking a large enough hole in the defensive cordon to allow the follow-on amphibious task force carrying the army’s 27th Division to make planetfall relatively unmolested.

  On the face of it.

  Or did the Coalition have a surprise of their own hidden somewhere?

  “What’s the latest data on the moon’s farside?” the admiral abruptly asked.

  Solwara touched controls on the arm of his command chair and a screen to the left of the main display showed the side of Ravenette’s major satellite opposite the task force. Lights showed on the moon’s surface, but they were in the locations of known mining and research operations. The drones sent adrift to check out that particular blind spot in the task force’s approach detected no sign of starships, space ships, or defensive weapons systems. None of the task force’s surveillance drones had detected anything that even remotely resembled a hidden surprise on the moon’s far side.

  At the last jump point before arriving in Ravenette’s space, Hoi had assembled his captains for a final briefing. They knew the operational plan he drew up was based on the most recent intelligence. Each captain also had a copy of the contingency plans in the event the naval situation had changed in the interim—Hoi’s operations staff had drawn several contingency plans, each assuming a different change or changes in the tactics. Depending on what they found on reentry to Space-3, the Kiowa would tight-beam a four-word code to each of the ships in the TF, instructing the captains which of the contingency plans to follow.

  There were no tight-beam transmissions; Hoi hadn’t had to switch to a contingency plan.

  That was very, very wrong—all plans were subject to last-minute changes. Surely the Coalition had spies scattered through the Confederation of Human Worlds, and at least one of them would have learned, if not of the actual plans for Task Force 79, at least of unusual activity indicating the preparation of a task force to strike the cordoning forces. Even if they didn’t, the Coalition had to know the Confederation would send a task force to break the cordon.

  Or was the Coalition leadership so naÏve it believed the Confederation wouldn’t react with force to the attack on its garrison at Fort Seymour? That didn’t seem likely.

  Hoi abruptly stood. “I’m going to my CIC now,” he told Solwara. “Watch for company coming from the direction of L1.”

  “The admiral has left the bridge,” the officer of the deck announced as soon as Hoi ducked through the hatch.

  The direction of L1? Solwara wondered. What did Admiral Hoi mean by—Of course! The admiral must have been thinking the same thing he had; it was too strange that the Coalition task force around Ravenette wasn’t reacting to their presence. Lagrange point 1—the balance point between Ravenette and its sun, a place where an object could park in a stable orbit. Except that L1 was an unstable position, and anything parked there would have to periodically adjust its position.

  Solwara toggled his horn to the Surveillance section. “I want a thorough data search for any emanations from sunward of Ravenette,” he told the division commander. “I want to know if any ships are hiding at L1.” He signed off. It wasn’t likely there would be any sign; anything parked at the L1 would only have to adjust position once every three, three-and-a-half weeks standard, and TF79 had only been in Space-3 for four days. Still, if Surveillance was looking, and there was someone there, they could get some warning if that someone began to maneuver.

  Task Force 79 continued its drift toward Ravenette. The seven Confederation starships weren’t in good formation, they hadn’t risked showing themselves by making any course or attitude adjustments on their return to Space-3. They were only an hour from battle orbit and the Coalition task force still didn’t show any indication they had been discovered. That was entirely too strange—TF79 was close enough to be detected visually with minimal magnification.

  Rear Admiral Hoi sent tight-beam orders to his starships: “Visually aim missile batteries at assigned targets. Do NOT use electronic locks until so ordered. Stand by to lock and launch on my order.”

  The Kiowa, the largest starship in the task force, pointed one of her missile batteries at a heavy cruiser and another at a medium; he held his third battery in reserve. Five of the task force’s other starships each pointed their missile batteries at a different enemy vessel, as assigned by
the primary attack plan. The other four defending starships were out of sight, eclipsed by the planet.

  Something sparked on one of Kiowa’s targets. Solwara swore to himself just as Surveillance reported, “Target Alpha has thrown alfa-chaff.” A second later, “Target Beta has thrown alfa-chaff.” Alfa-chaff, large sheets of reflective materials designed to decoy missile guidance systems away from their target, similar to the way atmospheric craft used thin strips of reflective material to decoy fire-and-forget munitions.

  “Acquisition radar is locking on us,” Radar reported.

  “All starships, lock and launch,” Admiral Hoi tight-beamed the order. “Use inertial guidance where possible. Power up and maneuver independently until further orders.”

  Inertial guidance was possible, but only by delaying missile launch. Solwara ordered each of his aimed missile batteries to lock and launch half of their missiles and use inertial guidance on the other half, using a generous spread. The generous spread was necessary, as the target starships were already firing their thrusters to change orbit.

  “Engines, fire main thrusters as soon as first salvo is launched,” Solwara ordered. He followed up with, “Sound general quarters.”

  A carefully modulated female voice sounded throughout the starship, “General quarters. Prepare for sudden maneuvering. I say again, general quarters. Prepare for sudden maneuvering.”

  Before the message was complete, a shudder went through the Kiowa as two batteries launched half of their missiles.

  “Multiple emanations coming from the limb of the planet,” Surveillance reported.

  “Details,” Solwara said.

  “One is medium cruiser Charlie, one is destroyer Alpha,” Surveillance identified two of the known ships currently eclipsed by Ravenette. “The other five are unknown, possible cruisers.”

  Task Force 79 had seven starships engaging twelve enemy starships, and now another five possible enemy vessels were joining the battle? Solwara didn’t like the odds. The army’s 27th Division, crammed into a lightly armed, ten-starship gator task force, was only half a day behind; TF79 had to clear the way for the gators before they arrived.

  Solwara forwarded the information to the admiral’s CIC as another, greater, shudder wracked the starship—the main thrusters firing. It was quickly followed by another shudder rippling through the starship as one of the batteries launched the other half of its missiles under inertial guidance.

  Solwara watched the main monitor with its schematics now showing the icons for more than a hundred missiles from both sides converging on the icons for the starships of both task forces. “Helm, two points up and starboard,” he ordered. Attitude jets fired and the Kiowa began a slow, ponderous turn. “Release alfa-chaff,” he ordered, and sheets of shiny aluminum shot forward in a wide swath around the starship’s course, followed closely by brilliantly burning magnesium flares that mimicked the firing of the starship’s main thrusters.

  The main display showed all the starships of both flotillas firing main thrusters. Curved, dotted lines delineating cones gave projected trajectories of each starship. Colors in the cones blended one into another, showing the optimal places for the starship to fire its attitude thrusters to leave orbit, gain orbit, or plunge toward the planet below. Simple dotted lines showed the projected trajectories of each missile. Most of the missile projections stopped where they intersected a starship cone, indicating likely hits. Six of the enemy missile paths intersected the Kiowa’s cone. The missile paths were numbered.

  “Torpedoes, fire killer decoys down the paths of bogies one, four, and five,” Solwara ordered. “Display, close in.” The display on the main screen altered to focus on the Kiowa and the missiles approaching her.

  A moment later, three new dotted lines appeared, radiating directly from the Kiowa’s icon to three of the missile icons terminating in her cone. Not visible on the display were the wires that trailed from the torpedoes to the starship, along which guidance commands were sent to keep them on the proper course for intercepting. The missiles were approaching each other at a combined velocity that danced on the edge of relativistic.

  Closing missile three veered off course by a few degrees, homing on one of the magnesium decoys. Confused by signals returned from the reflective chaff, missile six began zigging and zagging. Only missile two continued, unimpeded, on course to strike the starship. Solwara focused on the colors in his ship’s cone. The Kiowa was already feeling the tug of the planet’s gravity well; he needed to make another course adjustment soon to avoid being pulled into orbital altitude. But changing just then would move the heavy cruiser into earlier contact with missile two.

  “Reverse thrusters,” he ordered, to delay when he’d have to alter vector to avoid plunging into the atmosphere.

  The starship shuddered, pings and creaks echoed throughout as the main thrusters cut off and the bow thrusters began blasting. With the abrupt change in velocity anybody not strapped in, and everything not secured in place, would be thrown forward. Solwara knew some breakage was inevitable from the sudden maneuver, but he trusted that his crew was well enough disciplined that there wouldn’t be any injuries and nothing important would be broken.

  Slowly, slowly, the Kiowa’s plunge toward the planet slowed. Solwara looked at the display; missile two was still closing, but not quite as rapidly as before.

  “Close-in Fire Control,” he said into his comm, “do you have a solution for missile two yet?”

  “Yessir,” close-in Fire Control replied.

  “Probability?”

  “Eighty-five percent.”

  “How long for ninety-nine percent?”

  “One hundred and thirty seconds for ninety-nine.”

  “How long ’til closing?”

  “Two hundred and twenty seconds.” Ninety seconds between the time there would be a ninety-nine percent chance of hitting the missile and the time it would be close enough to detonate and damage—perhaps kill—the Kiowa. Solwara could order the close-in batteries to fire now, but it would take them longer than ninety seconds to reload and reacquire their target if they missed. He glanced at the display; he had more than ninety seconds before he could adjust vector. “Keep on it and kill it when you have ninety-nine,” he ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Keep me apprised of the situation.” Solwara returned his attention to the display and ordered it enlarged again to show the entire battle.

  The numerous icons representing the missiles fired by the starships of both sides were more scattered, and there weren’t as many, perhaps a hundred. Most of them had been successfully decoyed by defensive chaff or flares; confused by the chaff and flares, a few jittered about erratically. Some dotted lines ended in pulsing Xs, indicating missiles that had been killed by defensive fire. Only a quarter of the dotted lines still showed probable intercept with starships.

  There were two pulsing circles in the display, one red and one blue. The red one was labeled “medium cruiser Gamma,” a Coalition starship that a missile had put out of commission, perhaps killed. The pulsing blue circle made Solwara’s breath catch in his throat; it was labeled Everett Fulbright, a Confederation Navy destroyer. He had friends, former shipmates, on the Everett Fulbright.

  But Inap Solwara was a navy warship captain, he had a battle to fight. There would be time for mourning later, when his crew’s lives didn’t depend on his paying attention to the job at hand. He focused on the icons indicating the missiles fired by the Kiowa. All the missiles in the first salvo had been decoyed or destroyed, and half of the manually guided missiles had gone astray or been killed. Six of the remaining ten looked like they would do no better than minor surface damage to their targets. The last four would probably do more substantial damage, perhaps even kill their targets.

  He looked at the limb of the planet and saw icons emerging from behind it. Two of them were labeled “medium cruiser Charlie” and “destroyer Alpha.” Labels on the other four flickered until Surveillance identified the
m. One of them resolved to a frigate, two others to destroyers. Solwara was startled when the fourth was identified: “dreadnought Alpha.”

  He forwarded the information to Admiral Hoi’s CIC. The task force CIC probably already knew about the four new starships—and that one was a dreadnought—but it was better to be certain than to assume.

  The CIC was aware of the dreadnought, as Admiral Hoi proved by almost immediately tight-beaming orders to the Kiowa and two light cruisers to prepare to volley missiles at it.

  “Batteries, status,” Solwara said into his comm.

  “Battery one, rearmed.”

  “Battery two, rearmed,” came the responses.

  Solwara glanced at the display to see how close the Kiowa’s guided missiles were to detonation, then tapped out a new target—target Charlie, the dreadnought. “Prepare to launch two salvos at target Charlie, one locked, the other under inertial guidance. We are coordinating with Broward and Pawnee. Launch on my order.”

  “Sir, what about targets Alpha and Beta? The inertial missiles haven’t reached them yet.”

  “Keep guiding those missiles, but be prepared to cut them loose if I order firing at target Charlie before they close.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “Let me know when the inertials reach targets Alpha and Beta.”

  Close-in Fire Control came on, “We have reached ninety-nine. Four. Three. Two. One. Fire.”

  Solwara imagined he could feel the firing of the defensive guns through the deckplates. He looked at the display, where he could see the enemy missile still closing on the Kiowa. In seconds, the missile ran into the cloud of half-gram pellets thrown out by the guns, and it detonated. Seconds later, he heard light pinging as debris from the explosion impacted the Kiowa’s hull. He allowed himself a curt nod, certain that his ship had suffered no damage beyond chipped paint.

  On the display, the remaining missiles of the Kiowa’s first salvo continued to close on their targets. One by one they flared and turned to Xs. Target Alpha’s icon changed to a pulsing red circle, target Beta’s trajectory cone began slowly moving away from Task Force 79—it was damaged as well. A muted cheer rose on the bridge.