Imprint of War

by Phil Huddleston

  In a few seconds, he raised his head and morphed back to normal, his face like stone.

  "Ginger, please work on a memorial service for the crew and let's make sure it's a damn good one," he said. "Put Richard and Rachel in for the Medal of Honor, my personal nomination. Navy Cross for the rest of the crew."

  Ginger nodded, her bead glowing once to show she had communicated notes to her AI. A tear moved slowly down one cheek.

  Jake straightened in his chair and looked at his Chief of Intelligence, Admiral Bert Welby.

  "You're absolutely sure they swapped cores?" he asked.

  "Yes, sir." Welby responded in his quirky Yorkshire accent, “We got a nice, clean QE squirt and it confirmed the AI swapped the dummy core in before the self-destruct went off."

  "And the dead-man drones?"

  "Dead-man drones confirmed the destruct and confirmed the Polaris took the Bat frigate with her when she blew; it had already latched on for boarding. The dead-man drones monitored for twenty-four hours to confirm no residual EMF transmissions from either wreck, then did their own standard destruct."

  Nobody said anything for a while.

  Finally, Jake sighed, a long one.

  "Let's get on to business, folks. That's what Richard and his crew would want us to do. My concern is that, in spite of the self-destruct, there could be some kind of debris floating around out there that might give the Bats a clue to the location of Earth. Something that a crewmember smuggled on board, any kind of contraband that could help their intelligence staff get a line on our location."

  "There is always that possibility," said Welby. "We drill the Scout crews incessantly about not taking anything on board that could offer up a clue to our location, but people are people. All it would take would be one idiot with a chip of old Earth movies showing our solar system and they'd have us, if it survived the nuke."

  Admiral Maxence Baptiste, Chief of Naval Ordnance, shook his head. "Nothing survived that nuke," he growled. "I promise you, any contraband on that ship was vaporized."

  "Still, it makes me nervous," said Jake. "After eighty-six years of planning, for this to happen. Here we are, almost to the end…"

  Baptiste looked sideways at Jake. "The plan never survives contact with the enemy, Jake. You know that."

  Jake smiled slowly. "I know that. But I want it to be their plan that doesn't survive the contact."

  Jake leaned back, placed both hands flat on the table, and looked around the room. He included not only the senior officers sitting at the table, but their staff members seated in the second and third rows behind.

  Jake turned to the table. "You all know we've had Intelligence resources on Nest for a number of years now. Resource Fourteen has been taking great risks to give us reports almost daily for the last couple of weeks, as we approach the end of this great effort. From his reports, we've learned that a BEN Task Force is likely to receive clearance to detach and attack the ‘Apes’ within the next month."

  The intake of breath around the table was audible as Jake paused, then continued. "So - Andrea’s First Fleet is not actually on an extended training mission as was announced when they departed two months ago. They are at Nest, staged for the attack on the Bat Home Fleet. Likewise, Second Fleet is not departing on its own extended training mission next week as announced. It will be leaving for Orinoco to stage for its part of the attack."

  Although Jake's senior staff already knew of this, some of the staffers in the back of the room were stunned.

  Jake continued. "The actual attack clock is not D-Day minus 405 as is commonly thought and bandied about by loose gossip." Jake grinned. "It is D-Day minus 60. Today, in view of the loss of the Polaris, I want to advance the attack clock to D-day minus 40. Give me your thoughts."

  The room was silent. Then Ginger spoke first.

  "Absolutely," she said. "Give 'em hell!"

  Welby was more cautious. "If they don't split, we have to wait. Andrea would be going up against their full Home Fleet," he posited. "Her nine capital ships against their twenty-four. She'd be decimated."

  Jake shook his head. "I think you underestimate Andrea. She'll be in and out of that fleet like a knife through butter. She’ll tear them to pieces."

  Welby shook his head again. "But with their detection of Polaris, they'll go on heightened alert. I'd rather wait another two full months, ensure they really do split up their fleet and send a Task Force. I think the risk that they pull any useful intel out of the wreck of the Polaris is negligible."

  Jake nodded. "Objections noted and they are good ones."

  "Wei?" said Jake, glancing at his G4 Chief, Admiral Wei Li.

  Wei Li leaned forward. "Risk either way, but I say go for it. Andrea can handle them. The forty days will give them time to settle down after the Polaris. If they don't detect anything else for a week, they should calm down and go back to their normal routine."

  Jake focused on his Chief of Planning, Kanako Matsumoto.

  "Kanako? How about G5? Can we advance the clock without major glitches?"

  "Yes," replied Matsumoto. "We'll make it work."

  Jake continued his sweep around the room. "Does anyone have any objection to advancement of the attack clock to D-Day minus 40, implemented immediately? I would like to hear it if you do. Or as always you can communicate with me directly if you want to make your concerns known outside of this room."

  No one spoke. Their beads glowed fiercely as orders were issued.

  Maskirovka

  “Don’t take a knife to a gunfight.”

  - Old Texas Proverb, Earth, 21st Century

  Nest Home System - 1 Light Year Above the Ecliptic

  1 July 2207

  Andrea yawned. It was past midnight ship time, and she had given up trying to sleep. Of course, that didn't help her not be sleepy - she could hardly keep her eyes open. But every time she put her head down on the pillow, her mind clicked into high gear again. She saw the battle plan in her head. She thought of the thousand things that needed doing before a battle - even though most of them would be done by her Chief of Staff, Commander Derinoe, or by her Flag Captain, Captain Melousa.

  And she missed her children. The twins - Alexander and Ligeia - were safe at home on Aeolis, nestled in the arms of their godmother, Empress Hecate. Today, she had watched one of the vids received as they were shoving off from Tolleson Station more than two months ago, showing Hecate - the Empress of a powerful empire - tucking them into bed. She smiled at the memory of it. And she missed Jake. But Jake was 400 lights away approaching Orinoco, waiting - waiting for Andrea to lead the Bats to him.

  And when, when would it begin? Andrea hated the waiting. She understood the need for it...they absolutely had to sit tight, be patient, wait for the attack clock to wind down, hoping all the while that the Bats would take the bait and split their Home Fleet...but by the Stars, it was not her nature! They had been sitting here in the middle of nowhere, hidden one light year above the ecliptic of the Bat's home system, for two and a half months now! Incommunicado except for the occasional incoming QE message, running silent, sensors on passive, life-support minimal - cold and alone, just another few rocks out here where no ships passed by. The crews were getting stir-crazy, that she was sure of - she certainly was!

  Suddenly her MEMSAI beeped with Commander Derinoe's unique "Come Quick" sound. Andrea leaped to her feet, threw on her robe and ran out to the Flag Bridge, directly outside her suite. Derinoe was there, huddled over the holotank along with Captain Melousa. Both turned to her and smiled.

  "They're moving," said Melousa. "Just picked it up on the QE repeater."

  Andrea Iona stared at the plot with relief. "Finally," she said.

  Derinoe echoed her feelings. "Thank the Stars. I thought they'd never leave."

  In the holo, it was clear that a portion of the Bat Fleet was pulling out. Their vector seemed to be right where the RDF had predicted – they were leaving to attack the ‘Apes’. The Bat Expeditionary Fleet was headed dir
ectly toward Farpoint – 473 light years from Nest, but to Coreward – the wrong way.

  "How many?" asked Andrea.

  "CIC thinks just about half the Home Fleet. Just as we had hoped," said Melousa.

  "Thank the Stars, thank the Stars," said Andrea. “OK, let’s designate the departing ships as the ‘Detached Fleet’ in the holo”. She turned to Derinoe.

  "Pass a message to the Stealth Girls, Derinoe. Tell them to stay with them, but not too close. We absolutely cannot tip our hand now. It would be better to lose them and try to re-acquire, than to get too close and let them get a detection."

  "Aye, Mum," said Derinoe. Her bead glowed and her eyes de-focused a bit as she passed the message on.

  Andrea got up from her command chair. "OK, tomorrow we'll start pulling this circus together. I'm going to go try for some sleep. It's...let's see, 0030 hours...set a meeting for tomorrow morning at 0900. We'll put the final touches on the plan then."

  "Aye, Mum," said Derinoe, a huge grin on her face. "Sleep well."

  Andrea smiled. "I will now."

  On the bridge below, the XO of the Empress, Commander Duspera, sitting quietly in the command chair, grinned hugely as she heard the Captain and Admiral talking on the other side of the Flag Bridge partition. Her Tactical Officer, Lt. Commander Anaxo, stared at the main holotank and looked puzzled.

  “Why are the Bats heading in the wrong direction?” she asked. “I thought they were planning to go out and attack Earth.”

  Duspera laughed. “Ah, now, I can finally tell you. Admiral Hammett started an operation over eighty years ago called Project Guano. He planted QE buoys at a system called Farpoint, 473 light years Coreward of Nest, and started them broadcasting recorded EMF from Earth, making it look like Earth was in a completely different place. So, for the last eighty-plus years, a continuous broadcast of carefully screened radio, TV and comm signals from Earth has been patched through to Farpoint and then re-broadcast back toward Nest. And on Farpoint, he’s built fake cities, roads, there’s always dozens of AI spaceships buzzing about, looking for all the world like Earth. And all the hit-and-run decoy raids that have been going on for the last six months – the ships always depart towards Farpoint. So that’s where the Bats are going. They’ve been foxed by the Master.”

  “My Stars,” said Anaxo. “How could anyone think more than eighty-six years in advance? No wonder Pandora picked him for his job.”

  Duspera grinned. “Remember what Pandora said, back in 2121? That she picked him because he could see ‘all three sides of the coin’? She wasn’t kidding!”

  Anaxo frowned. “But…as I think about it…that wouldn’t completely work. If he started re-broadcasting in 2121 from Farpoint, and it’s 473 lights from Nest, then the Bats could figure out that there’s history missing from around 1910 through about 2121. So, they would know it’s a deception.”

  Duspera grinned even wider. “So how would you fix that problem?”

  Anaxo thought for a while. “Well…I guess you could put another QE repeater buoy about…let’s see…about 210 lights out from Farpoint toward Nest…and have it broadcast EMF from the missing period, from 1910 up to 2121. Until the 2121 signals caught up to it. Then have it shut down.”

  “You’re on the right track,” said Duspera. “But it was five QE repeater buoys, spaced about sixty-five lights apart, providing complete coverage. In a spread array, repeating every forty-five degrees around the Farpoint system. Each of the outer ones shut down and self-destructed as soon as the signal arrived from the next innermost one. So once 65 years had passed, there was a complete signal stream for 325 lights, all the way from Farpoint toward Nest, with only the innermost repeater buoy still in operation.”

  Anaxo objected again. “But even so, the signal would still be…what…only 325 lights from Farpoint, and Nest is 473 lights.”

  “Well,” said Duspera, “Let’s just say the Bats had a little help detecting it. Maybe someone put one of their remote QE detection buoys in just the right place. After all, you can’t make it too hard for them.”

  Anaxo shook her head. “How could anyone think of something so sneaky?”

  Duspera continued her grin. “I guess you have to be an Admiral.”

  2 July 2207 - 1200 hours

  Andrea tapped on the table. The small talk died and her officers looked at her. Derinoe was to her right, Melousa to her left. Down the table were arrayed the Captains of her other four battleships. In the holo were the commanding officers of the rest of her fleet - four cruisers, eight frigates and ten destroyers. Her flag staff stood against the wall surrounding the conference table.

  Andrea began. "This will be your last warning order. We will advance upon the enemy today at 1600 hours. It will take us twelve hours to come into effective combat range, so we should make contact at roughly 0400 hours tomorrow morning. That will be about 0200, Bat time. A nice wake-up call for them."

  Grins went around the table.

  "We all know the plan, and there are no changes at this time. Execute your orders as precisely as possible but improvise and adapt as necessary to assure the success of this attack."

  The assembled officers nodded.

  "I know I have said this repeatedly, but I'm going to say it again, especially for those of you new to combat. This is a hit-and-run. Do NOT get caught up in the heat of battle and try to kill just one more ship, get in just one more hit. I fought in a half-dozen battles during the Aeolian Rebellion, and I will tell you, it's easy to get your blood boiling and lose track of the overall objective. Stay focused. I want to inflict maximum damage on their Home Fleet, but WITHOUT losing a ship, if possible. So... remember the number one objective. Pass through their fleet, shoot everything you can, sling around the planet and get the hell out. Do NOT slow down for anything. Get in, get out and keep going like your tail was on fire. Because it just may be."

  Chuckles went around the table.

  Andrea stood, and everyone snapped to attention.

  "Good hunting and good luck. See you later in the tac. Dismissed."

  The holo flicked off, and the assembled officers turned and filed out. Andrea watched them go and wondered. How many would still be alive tomorrow? Would this gamble work? So much turned on the success of this attack; if she failed, then the Bats might have enough strength left in their Home Fleet to run her down and destroy her. Or even if she succeeded and got away clean, the Detached Fleet might not turn and follow her; might, in fact, simply return to Nest, regroup and start hunting for Earth in earnest. Or even if they did follow her, as planned, they might catch her before she got to Orinoco.

  Andrea sighed. There's no point in thinking about the what-ifs at this point, she knew. The odds seemed to be in their favor. The die was cast. It was up to her and her Fleet to strike the first blow of the end game.

  Andrea turned and retired to her cabin. It was in the hands of the Creator, she thought. She would do her best.

  ***

  Sensor Officer Caltrun was half-asleep. The graveyard shift on the Bat Home Fleet Flagship High Echo was always difficult. But he could not sleep; the penalty for sleeping on duty was severe. So, he managed - just barely - to stay awake. He decided to get up and walk around the bridge, to jostle his dull brain back into action. Moving around the various sensor stations, he looked over the shoulders of the technicians, pretending to gaze at their screens but really checking to see if they were awake.

  He completed his circle of the room and was nearly back to his seat when the "ping" of a sensor was followed almost immediately by the soft "warble, warble" of an unidentified ship alarm. Caltrun sighed. Another damn merchantman who forgot to set his IFF. He reversed course and went back to the long range holo tank. The technician was twisting the holo control, looking puzzled.

  "What's up?" asked Caltrun.

  The technician shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir. There's a detection straight out the north planetary pole, about 100 k-klicks out. Moving way too fast to be a merchantman, if it's
real."

  "Crap," said Caltrun. "Maybe an incoming asteroid?"

  The technician adjusted the holo tank again. "Possible, sir, but the vector is a bit strange for an asteroid. It's...wait, let me project the track...See? It's...not a typical asteroid orbit. It looks more like a ship coming in. In fact," he peered at the holo "...it's coming right at us...decelerating hard…"

  Caltrun shook his head. "Nothing on the manifest, and no IFF."

  "Ping!" Another blip appeared in the holo. Almost immediately, two more followed. "Ping! Ping!"

  Then a concert of pings as an entire fleet of ships came into view, moving fast, straight at the various locations where Home Fleet warships orbited. For several seconds, Caltrun stood frozen, his mind a blank. Then he shuddered and ran to his desk.

  ***

  "Open fire, open fire, open fire," intoned Captain Melousa. Immediately the Empress Hecate shuddered as railguns and missiles started firing simultaneously. In a loose formation covering orbits around the planet Nest and its LaGrange points, the other ships of Andrea’s First Fleet went to work as well, targeting every major Bat warship near the planet. Results were immediate - within seconds, two enemy frigates exploded, an enemy cruiser had a hole punched completely through her midships, and a battleship vented from a large hole near her engines. From their sensors, the Bats had received about ten minutes warning before the strike - enough to know they were under attack, but clearly not enough to fully prepare for action.

  Andrea sat in her Flag Officer's chair raised on a dais behind Captain Melousa and his bridge staff. A plastic partition between her Flag Bridge and the bridge of the Empress Hecate served as a symbolic division between the officer commanding the ship – Melousa - and Andrea, the officer commanding the entire fleet.

  Andrea watched in her own separate holo repeater as her hit-and-run fleet, at max decel, began to knock holes in the Bat fleet. They would remain on max decel through the end of the attack; then perform a slingshot around the planet, escaping on their vector toward Orinoco.