William Keith Renegades Honor

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William Keith Renegades Honor Page 37

by Renegade's Honor


  He held out his hands, reaching for her shoulders. "T.C.! I..." She twisted out of reach and hurried through the door, leaving Kendric alone in the lounge.

  Breakout!

  The Gamma Sacculus system was named at all only because it was part of a constellation prominent in the night skies of Delphius Major. From that hub of Imperial trade and government in the sector, the Sacculus Adamantis Nebula appeared to be what its Galatin name suggested, a small, black sack from which spilled a cascade of glittering diamonds. Gamma Sacculus was the third brightest of those diamonds, but had it not featured so prominently in the Delphian constellation, it would have rated only a number instead of a name.

  Gamma Sacculus was a trinary sun, a pair of brilliant, blue-white A3 stars circling one another in close orbit, while a third, somewhat cooler A7 orbited the pair at a distance of several hundred AUs. There were no habitable planets in the system and little of interest or use to the TOG Imperium. Kendric had chosen the system for precisely that reason. There would be no outposts, no military installations, no garrisons or patrolling fighters to tell of the Gael Squadron' s sojourn there.

  What the system did have was a number of planets. They were mostly barren, sun-baked cinders or, in the comet-haunted voids of the outer system, chill, lonely gas giants. One of these, given as Gamma Sacculus C VII in the Warrior's navigational listings, was noteworthy for its vast and ice-rich ring systems.

  Most gas giants had ring systems of one form or another, but were dim and coal-black stragglings of asteroidal material and debris, the remnants of moons never born when the planet was first formed. Haetai had such rings, as did Sol V, in Terra's solar system. A few, however, like Discus and Sol VI were comparative rarities, gas giants with extensive rings rich in water and methane ice. Ring systems such as those were relatively unstable, lasting for only a few million years before they were destroyed by gravitational perturbations and the effects of ionizing radiation within the giant's magnetosphere.

  In the meantime, however, ice rings were precious treasure troves where starships could m ine water and take on additional reaction mass. With fusion power, it was a simple matter to separate methane and other impurities from pure water ice, then convert the water into hydrogen for the plasma drive and fusion plants, and into oxygen for the ships' atmosphere plants.

  Gamma Sacculus C VII filled the forward view screen, a thing of

  glorious, mythical splendor. The planet itself was an orange and yel low half-sphere, its gold and silver rings intensely brilliant where they caught and reflected the distant star's blue white light.

  "Intense radiation from the stars, of course, Captain," MacCan-dless reported over the intercom. "Scanner Chief says he's getting lots of radio noise and radiation garbage from there, and from the planet, too. But there's no sign of capital ships."

  "Good. This will be a good place to catch our breath." A good place to plan our next move.

  Kendric immediately issued orders to the squadron to deploy and move in. The Gael ships would take up positions along the outer fringes of the rings. The Abu and the corvettes would be good for herding chunks of ice to the larger ships. Point defense lasers could then be used to slice up the chunks so that they could be maneuvered into cargo bays converted into emergency fueling stations.

  Their approach toward Gamma Sacculus C VII was not unobserved.

  The MOBASTAT, or mobile battle station, is a compromise ship design often likened to a fleet carrier without engines. With neither I-K drive nor T-space capability, it is essentially a giant, self-sufficient Interceptor hangar bay towed and deployed wherever needed by Legion Class fleet transports. MOBASTATs are large and cumbersome, lightly armed and scantily armored, but each one can carry up to one full fighter wing—360 fighters and the better than 1200 men needed to fly and service them. TOG military doctrine had them deployed as local defenses, temporary garrisons for systems that did not require full-time or permanent defensive outposts.

  Three had been deployed among the rings of Gamma Sacculus C VII only two days before. They had been waiting there, orbiting the gas giant among the myriad, glittering fragments of rock and ice. They were powered by old-style plutonium fission reactors, obsolete, dirty, and dangerous power plants that nevertheless would not betray the stations' presence through neutrino spillage.

  One of the MOBASTAT units noted the breakout of the Gael Squadron the moment incoming Cherenkov radiation registered on its detectors, and signaled the others through tightly focused laser communications relays.

  Their orders had been specific. There was a distinct chance that Gamma Sacculus was the goal of the fugitive renegades, and if they approached the trinary star, it would be to take on reaction mass at C

  VII. The three MOB AST AT units were to watch the Gael Squadron's approach, taking no action until they were deployed for their refueling maneuvers.

  Then, more than a thousand TOG Imperial fighters would be launched in a mass assault to totally obliterate the Renegade Gael Squadron.

  Large numbers of TOG fleet groups appear to be mobilizing in the Sagittarius Arm of the Terran Sector. We have as yet, no clear indication of the purpose of these maneuvers.

  —Routine report, from COMINT, Cathandra, to Military Intelligence Committee, Parliamentary Assembly, Commonwealth, Classified: Secret 31 Oct 6830

  "Captain! This is the XO!"

  "What is it, Lenard?"

  "Fighters, Captain! Ops has hundreds of 'em! Incoming!"

  "Sound battle stations! I'm on my way!"

  Kendric rolled out of his bunk and was still pulling his uniform together when he hit the passageway outside his quarters. The refueling operation had been proceeding perfectly according to routine, and he had taken the opportunity to lie down for just a few moments... A glance at his perscomp told him that the few moments had become three hours. Must be more tired than I thought.

  "Fleet Captain on the Bridge!" the sentry announced when Kendric stepped in. He went straight to his chair, where he could get a good look at the main viewer's tactical display.

  A wave of colored symbols advanced on the tiny fleet from three directions, one from either side of the squadron along the plane of the rings, a third over the north pole of the planet from the far side.

  "Ops, Captain," MacCandless's voice said from his console speaker. "We are tracking something in excess of a thousand fighters,

  of all classes, approaching from three directions."

  "How long do we have, Kelly?"

  "Five minutes, Captain. The first two will hit us simultaneously. The third group will arrive about two minutes later."

  "All departments at battle stations," Morganen added over the line.

  "Fleet status?"

  "All ships at battle stations, Captain."

  "Visual!"

  The main viewer switched to a view of space. The Warrior seemed adrift in a flat, shimmering sea of white, the rings were knife-edged and crisp in the distance where they arced off around the golden curve of the gas giant, and diffuse and hazy up close. The ring system was a thick one, its individual particles ranging from fist-sized chunks up to ice mountains kilometers across. The squadron had taken up their orbit along the thin and ragged outer fringes of the ring system, where the fragments were larger and widely spaced. The nearest ones were kilometers distant.

  Kendric thought fast. Standard doctrine suggested he move his ships out away from the planet, gaining maneuvering room and room to run. Ops prediction for the attack's arrival time made nonsense of standard doctrine, however. The first enemy fighters would arrive while the fleet was still trying to maneuver clear of the rings. Why fight those rings? Perhaps they could be turned to the squadron's advantage.

  "Ship-to-ship!"

  "Channel open, Captain."

  "All ships, close in tight on the Warrior's position! We'll hold them here!"

  "Captain? Commander Jardine here. Shall we launch fighters?"

  "Negative, Frank. Scramble the fighters and have t
hem stand by, but don't launch yet." It would be a slaughter pitting fewer than seventy fighters against a thousand, with the presence of hurtling ring fragments making it even more dangerous. Still, his fighters might be desperately needed...later.

  The scattered ships of the squadron maneuvered closer together, the pulses from their gravitic maneuvering drives brushing against stray ice chunks and sending them tumbling into the dark. The transports were the critical factor in the squadron's defensive strategy. The Reannruadh closed in tight behind the two transports, while the Gael Warrior protected them from all ahead. The destroyers deployed to starboard, farther out toward the edge of the rings. The Abu and the frigates clustered about the transports.

  Kendric's strategy depended on breaking the waves of enemy fighters. They would be united and coordinated during their first pass and thus at their most deadly. If the squadron could inflict sufficient casualties, could break the attackers' unity into a horde of individually maneuvering and attacking fighters, then perhaps Kendric and his people would have a chance to run for it.

  He saw no other option that offered a chance of success—or even of survival against one thousand enemy fighters.

  "Here they come!" Lee Fairfax announced. The main viewer shifted to tactical. Solid walls of red symbols advanced from ahead and behind.

  "Steady, Mr. Fairfax." The Gunnery Officer's voice was too full of excitement. "Independent targeting."

  "Targets in range, Captain. All batteries report ready to fire." That was better. Fairfax's experience was taking over, submerging the raw fear and excitement in cool professionalism.

  Kendric let himself smile. Let them see that you' re not worried! "I see no reason to wait, Mr. Fairfax. You may open fire."

  The Warrior's main gun spoke first, as magnetic fields surged the length of the battleship's spinal mount. The mass driver projectile streaked ahead through space, colliding with a TOG Gladius at the forefront of the approaching fighter wall. The fighter ceased to exist, save as glowing motes.

  The battleship's main ventral battery fired, its individual laser and mass driver turrets tracking independently as their arcs of fire became suddenly cluttered with targets. The first incoming fire struck the Warrior's forward flicker shield. Other hits scored seconds later. The ship rocked slightly as a fightermounted mass driver smashed a metal projectile past the screens and deep into hull armor on the forward portside.

  "Visual." The tactical display was no longer necessary, with each station receiving its own tactical feed from Ops. The huge display of hundreds upon hundreds of incoming fighters was distracting...and unnerving. The straight visual display seemed peaceful by comparison. Enemy fighters were still invisible, but the strobe flashes of weapons hits popped silently in the distance. The dazzling flashes of occasional near hits on the Warrior's forward shields were immediately dimmed by the computer monitoring the visual transmission. The forward battery turrets were visible at the bottom of the screen, moving slightly from side to side, up and down, as their weapons tracked the oncoming targets. Their beams were silent and invisible, and except for the distant flashes and the tension that permeated the bridge, it was hard to remember that they were in the midst of a battle.

  There was little Kendric could do now to take an active part in the battle. He had deployed the squadron's ships to the best of his ability. From here on, the fight would be up to the various ship departments, especially Commander Fairfax and the rest of the Fire Control Department, and Commander MacCandless and his people sorting out targets down in Ops.

  He glanced down at the tactical display on a console screen. The enemy fighter wall was unbroken, and growing closer.

  "Targets now in secondary range." Fairfax's voice was icy calm. "Secondary batteries, commence firing."

  The wall was 150 kilometers away, still closing in an unbroken mass. Break, damn you.. .Break!

  The attackers were taking fearful losses. The Gael Warrior mounted weapons batteries that could sweep aside enemy fighter squadrons, six ships at a time, with blasts of raw power that smashed through flicker shields and hull armor with nearly contemptuous ease. The problem was that there were so many of them...

  Then the enemy fighter wave reached the Gael Warrior. The turrets visible on the viewscreen swung wildly as targets streaked past the battleship on every side, above and below.

  "Incoming fighter, triple zulu plus five!" MacCandless's voice warned over the general combat comm line. "Watch him! He's a diver..."

  There it was! Whether out of control or piloted by a man determined to crash his ship into the Gael Warrior's tower, the fighter was vectoring on a path straight toward the bridge. At Fairfax's order, dorsal turrets along the forward deck snapped back around to bear on this new menace. The fighter was a barely-glimpsed fleck of silver growing to the size of a toy in the distance. Kendric recognized the ventral fin, the twin, forward-thrusting pontoon laser mounts of a Spiculum.

  The TOG fighter disintegrated under the massed barrage from Warrior's forward deck barely ten kilometers from the ship. An instant later, hundreds of pinpoint flares of light ignited across the forward screen's field of view, as tiny chunks of broken Spiculum splashed across the battleship's tower shields.

  In the relieved silence that followed, someone's voice came across the tac channel. "Hey...it's raining Spiculum out there."

  "Attention to stations," MacCandless said. "Fighters incoming from astern..."

  Kendric had the screen switch back to tactical so that he could see the entire situation at once. One point was readily clear: the attacking waves had caved in. The two walls of fighters, one advancing from ahead, the other from astern, had met at the squadron's position and broken like ocean waves against rocks. Individual TOG fighters were vectoring off in every direction now. Badly damaged ships continued on straightline courses away from the squadron. Most vanished into space, while a few collided with spectacular and fiery suddenness against ice boulders that happened to lie in their paths. The vast majority slowed their forward velocities to where they could skew around for a second attack, but those attacks were disjointed and rarely coordinated.

  Some few fighter groups continued to press their attacks in a coordinated fashion. One ragged band of at least twenty-five Gladius fighters closed with the Gael Warrior from port, their silhouettes practically invisible against the glow of the planet and the sparkling haze of ring particles in the distance. Mass driver projectiles began to strike the Warrior's port shields, flaring in great gouts of light and occasionally smashing through to crater armor. The Warrior's main dorsal battery swung to port and fired salvo after salvo. Clusters of enemy fighters flashed into momentary brilliance, but the rest kept closing, accelerating more quickly than Kendric thought they would have dared among the drifting danger of the ring debris.

  At a range of barely twenty kilometers, the survivors massed together and fired, delivering bolt after bolt from electron particle cannons mounted in their outthrust port and starboard pontoons. The actinic glare of EPC fire lay like a blanket across the Warrior's forward deck as armor boiled away in huge, shallow patches. Compared to other weapons, electron guns did not have much penetration, but they could strip huge sections of surface armor away in clouds of radiant metal vapor.

  The Warrior's ventral batteries joined in, and the attacking Gladii Hashed one after another into oblivion. More flashes of light struck fire among the attackers, as the Reannruadh's forward batteries joined in from far astern, catching the attackers in a searing crossfire. The last five TOG fighters arrowed low across the Warrior's deck in flat, u n wavering paths that indicated their pilots were dead, their maneu ver-ing controls smashed...or both. Fragments of destroyed fighters disintegrated against the port screens moments later.

  "Captain? Ops here."

  "Yes, Kelly?"

  "Thought you should know, Skipper. We've spotted three TOG corvettes accelerating out-system."

  "Corvettes?"

  "Yessir. My guess is that they're courier
s."

  "Off to alert other fleet elements that we're here."

  "Something like that, sir."

  "Kelly, why would TOG drop three MOBASTAT units here?"

  "Fairly standard system defense procedure..."

  "Yes, but why here? There's nothing to protect but the gas giant."

  "Huh. They wouldn't...unless they expected an enemy to use..."

  "Exactly. And there is no enemy out here. Except us."

  "A trap, then. They knew we were coming to this system and planted the fighters! But how could they know?"

  "I don't know. Maybe someone got a line on us at Greshem. Probably they narrowed it down to a few good possibilities... and this was one of them."

  "If that's true, sir, then they must have a sizeable fleet not too far away."

  "That's just what I was thinking, Kelly. When those corvettes tau out, they may be on their way to spring the real trap!"

  "What can we do about it, Captain?"

  "I'm not sure yet. How long until the third group reaches us?"

  There was a pause. "They're coming into range now, sir."

  The third fighter wing had skimmed the gas giant's north pole at high acceleration and was angling in on a course to penetrate the squadron and the wings from "above." Only half of the fleet's weapons could bear on them, for each ship's ventral batteries were masked by its own hull.

  "Helm!" Kendric ordered. "Roll ninety to port! Weapons, stand by to engage ventral weapons to starboard!"

  On the forward screen, the curve of the planet rolled from the left side to the top of the display, hanging like a vast, curved ceiling of hammered gold. Kendric heard Fairfax barking orders to his crews. Beams and projectiles lanced into space, seeking the newly arrived Interceptors with questing fire.

  Then the third wing swept through the squadron, smashing into clouds of individual fighters as it passed. With a vector almost at right angles to the plane of ring debris, many were lost in spectacular collisions with hurtling mountains of ice, while others vanished in flares of light as the Gael warships struck again and again and again.

 

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