Star Force: Origin Series Box Set (5-8)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  The radar the ships were broadcasting could and should have been enough to give away their position, but with so many radar signals in orbit, many of which were Star Force owned and in constant operation, there was a bit of neighborhood clutter to disguise their presence, but had anyone been monitoring and comparing the radar signatures to transponders they would have easily noticed the discrepancy.

  The target ship in question should have sensed the much stronger radar beacon nearby, but no visible response in trajectory was noted, meaning either they didn’t see any point in running or that they weren’t set up to detect such things, which Roger found likely. Star Force starships were all equipped for such situational awareness, but at a cost…and given that this ship was not of Star Force build he doubted the designers had been that thorough. Also, if this ship was predisposed for stealth, then detection was something it wanted to avoid rather than be engaged in, meaning it probably had limited navigational ability and was flying off transponder signals alone.

  There were several hours before the anticipated intercept, with the corvette accelerating at a furious pace before coasting then hard breaking towards the climax and interposing itself in between the French transport, this one also of Star Force manufacture and Leo-class, and the transponderless starship about 1,000 km out. There the corvette waited as the enemy made some last minute adjustments to its course to precisely line up its approach to the French ship.

  “They don’t see it,” Paul said as he watched the telemetry. Both he, Liam, Jason, and several other trailblazers had come down to the control room to watch the intercept unfold. “They’re going straight for the transport.”

  “We concur,” Voss said a few moments later. “What are your orders?”

  Paul exchanged glances with Roger.

  “Captain,” Roger said evenly. “Make your presence known, but under no circumstances let them get within missile range of that ship.”

  Voss nodded to the screen, then looked over to the starboard line of control stations to the pilot of that particular corvette. “Turn on your transponder and give me a local broadcast…just powerful enough for the two ships, I don’t want to transmit to the entire planet.”

  “Transponder going hot,” the pilot said, with a white icon pulsing on the Captain’s navigation map, replacing the dull blue that had been marking the ship’s location. “Comm line link established and routed to your chair.”

  Voss slid his hand over the transmit button and let it hover there, watching for a reaction to the sudden appearance of the nearby transponder signal. After a long pause and no response from the quickly approaching ship he pushed down the button and began to speak, but before his first word could come out the corvette’s radar picked up four quickly accelerating contacts leaping from the target.

  Voss clicked the comm closed again. “Missiles!” he warned, although the pilot had already seen them coming and began to reorient the corvette to engage the target.

  7

  “I see them,” the pilot said, spinning the ship around and beginning to accelerate towards the French ship and away from the target, slightly slowing the intercept time for the missiles but more importantly beginning to match the approach speed of the enemy as he activated the anti-missile laser system.

  The H-shaped warship had a large laser mod with cupolas on one side and a missile rack in the other. All power for the laser mod was channeled into the two cupolas as the pilot pointed the ship square on so that both mounts could target the incoming missiles at range. With the corvette’s active radar tracking the missiles the pilot tagged each of the four as targets and let the ship’s auto-fire program handle the defense.

  When the missiles passed the 50 mile mark the auto-turrets began peppering the area with rapid-fire laser shots, invisible save for when they hit, which first occurred at 38 miles out and the small damage incurred began to add up, taking down the first one at 22 miles when a small section of the guided missile’s fuel supply was hit during drift mode, causing an erratic lateral acceleration that sent it careening off target.

  Two more of the missiles were ‘killed’ through damage, making them inoperable before they hit the second acceleration stage. The fourth of the long range missiles began accelerating through a second stage of propellant, aligning itself on the corvette before it was chewed apart by several sequenced hits that continued like a chainsaw as it approached the ship, leaving nothing but pieces to bounce off the hull armor. The closer targets got to the ship the more accurate the anti-missile turrets were, leaving the four missiles little chance of hitting, though a larger cluster fired at shorter distance would have been another matter entirely.

  Voss didn’t plan on letting that scenario come to pass. “Target with the main battery,” he ordered. “Disabling shot if possible.”

  While the turrets had been doing their job the pilot had been maneuvering the single large laser in line with the approaching ship and zooming in with the targeting scope, which included a laser ‘pointer’ so that when the Captain gave the order he already had the target in his crosshairs. The video feed he was watching showed a detailed, telescopic image of the attacking ship with two large missile racks attached to the hull. He let the shaky targeting laser drift over the port module and fired off a shot, missing as the dot juked off the launcher, due in part to the signal lag.

  He knew the targeting would steady the closer the enemy ship got, but he didn’t want to wait that long. The pilot waited through the brief recharge cycle of the main laser and chanced another shot, trying to either hit the launchers or miss wide, keeping the shot away from the main hull if at all possible.

  On the image, which had to be zoomed out slightly as the ship continued to approach, one of the box-like compartments exploded, pushing the ship slightly askew by the lateral thrust.

  “Nice shot,” Voss congratulated. “Now get the other one.”

  “I can’t,” the pilot said, frustrated. “Not until they fix their orientation.”

  Voss considered the situation for a moment. “Try for the engines if and when they circle around, reduced power shot.”

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot said, watching as the list slowly rotated the ship around, bringing the nose to the left and the destroyed missile pod directly between the two ships…but then the ship’s thrusters fired and killed the list, followed by a 22 missile salvo fired off the front of the warship and which curved sharply to the left, heading towards the corvette.

  “Looks like they’re going all in,” Voss said.

  “I’m on it,” the pilot said, keying the second weapons mod along with switching the laser power supply back over to charging the cupolas. Along with the offensive missiles was a bank of the fast moving intercepts, with hard armor plates retracting over the launch tubes and exposing them to space.

  As the pilot waited for the missiles to close within range of the auto-turrets he kept the main laser’s targeting reticule on the ship, hoping for a clean shot with the single capacitor charge he had left. The ship was still partially lateral, with the bow pointed left but not so much that the rear of the ship was clearly visible. The boxy missile launcher was still covering the engines, and the front of the ship was little more than a square jawed protrusion of hull with a few tiny windows up front. If it wasn’t for the radar signature and the reflecting sunlight, the black paint job would have made it almost completely invisible.

  The laser turrets began firing before a target of opportunity presented itself and the pilot abandoned the effort, keying instead for the launch of the intercepts. He had to wait until the missiles were close by to fire, given that the countermeasures had very little range to work with. By the time that happened the lasers had killed five of the 22 missiles, then he switched them off and fired the intercepts with a smooth, coordinated key sequence.

  Out of the ‘back’ of the ship sprouted sequenced shots that looked like fireworks, zipping away from the ship so fast they were hard to follow with the naked eye. On the radar they
appeared as tiny fish, swimming out and biting on to the approaching missiles with both winking out upon contact. Two failed to hit on the first pass, with the closure rates being too high for them to circle around and catch up as they continued to travel in towards the corvette.

  The pilot switched the lasers back on and the two missiles quickly disappeared, but got within a mile of the ship before splintering apart under the hail of laser blasts. The intercepts that had attempted to spin about and pursue ran out of fuel and began to drift unpowered through the ever decreasing engagement zone.

  “They’re running!” the pilot said.

  “Stay on them,” Voss ordered.

  “I have a shot,” the pilot said as the enemy ship turned as it accelerated.

  “Take it then get moving,” Voss allowed.

  “Gladly,” the pilot whispered, concentrating. A moment later he fired off the main laser, clipping the engine vents sticking out the back of the ship like flower petals. The nearest one blew apart in a hail of shrapnel and the ship’s thrust suddenly became erratic, throwing their centerline off target and wobbling their acceleration but not stopping the ship from moving away.

  “Pursuit course,” Voss ordered. “You’ll have to get closer to completely disable.”

  “Accelerating,” the pilot said, kicking in the corvette’s superior engines and taking it away from the French ship that it had been sliding back towards. “How exactly am I supposed to shoot it without penetrating the hull?”

  “Get the other missile rack first, then we’ll talk,” Voss said as he watched the enemy ship list as it continued to thrust hard, taking it in a curved trajectory that was hard to predict an intercept point for, but with the corvette’s greater speed it quickly ate up the course corrections and the miles between the ships scaled down drastically.

  No more enemy missiles were launched until they came within 12 miles, at which time six more mushroomed from the front of the ship and pulled a U-turn, heading back towards the corvette but it was no use. The anti-missile systems disposed of them all and the Star Force warship continued to close.

  Another well aimed laser shot hit the starboard missile rack a few minutes later as the pilot finally was able to intercept the enemy’s flight line and swing around behind them. No missiles exploded in the box this time, due to the fact that the affected rack area was already empty, but it put a sizeable hole in the assembly none the less.

  The warship’s engines were now fully in view, but the pilot knew he couldn’t risk firing into the engine compartments and detonating the full reserves. If they were going to take the ship intact he had to hit specific systems…or in this case perhaps just run the enemy out of fuel, for they were still accelerating hard to get away, with the corvette having to constantly run its engines to maintain pace and closure, dipping below 50% of their own reserves.

  A second laser shot blew off a chunk of the starboard missile box, which prompted a sudden reverse of course, with the enemy cutting all engine thrust, then using thrusters to flip over to face the closing corvette. It then ran its engines up to full thrust and set an intercept course.

  “Captain?” the pilot asked.

  “I see it,” Voss said steadily. “Focus on the missiles.”

  The pilot nodded and lined up the laser with the inside of the port box, with the reticule no longer jumping around as much now that the target was less than 5 miles away, made all the more steadier when he cut out the corvette’s engines. He fired a precise shot and blasted away most of the port missile rack, with a large piece drifting off away from the enemy ship as it continued to accelerate hard towards them.

  When it closed to within a mile it launched its remaining 11 missiles at nearly pointblank range. The corvette’s anti-missile systems chewed apart 7 of them, and a few hastily launched intercepts took down 3 more, but one of the missiles slipped through and impacted the front right corner of the corvette, detonating against the armor plating.

  The enemy ship flew by less than 50 meters away, carrying its forward momentum and now adding it to the corvette’s…which was now drifting away from the target.

  “Damage report,” Voss ordered.

  “Not too bad, armor took most of it,” the pilot reported. “We lost one engine vent, directional thrust is gone but I can manage on the others.”

  “Get after them, they can’t have much fuel left,” Voss said, keeping his nerve. “They’re not going to get away.”

  “Pursuing,” the pilot noted, a bit frustrated that his ship took damage when he could have killed the enemy warship multiple times over by now. He rotated the ship around so that he didn’t have to utilize the damaged vent and could keep the laser pointed forward, then applied smooth but not full thrust, negating the enemy’s acceleration curve and gradually surpassing it, keeping the pressure on but not closing too fast, making sure they kept them running to bleed off their remaining fuel.

  When the corvette finally caught up to within a mile Voss made a command decision.

  “Pop an intercept into their engines.”

  The pilot smiled. “Yes, sir,” he said, tagging the ship and sending the tiny firecracker streaking forward. The lower yield charge was less destructive than a missile, but still posed a risk of detonating their fuel supply or penetrating their hull and cracking their atmospheric containment. Voss figured with the fuel nearly gone the risk of explosion would be less, but the truth was he was tired of playing nice with these murderers…especially since they just damaged one of the ships in his fleet.

  The warship had a cluster of six engines in back and the intercept hit center left, blowing apart five of the petal-like vents and sending a lot of shrapnel into the rear of the ship and the internal engine components. As soon as the intercept exploded a secondary plume of some compressed gas puffed out the back but that was the extent of the damage. The ship’s engine thrust completely stopped and the warship went ballistic.

  “Well done,” Voss said, glad to see the warship’s wings clipped. “Now see if we can get a comm line established.”

  “It’s still wired to your chair, sir,” the pilot reminded him.

  “That it is,” Voss suddenly remembered, flicking the switch. “Unidentified warship, your engines are gone, your attempt to destroy us failed, and we have the ability to kill you at any moment we wish. That said, we’d prefer to take you prisoner. Our terms are simple. Establish communications, identify yourself, and make no other attempts at hostilities. We’ll arrange for your recovery...or you can sit here and slowly die, because the only way you’re leaving here alive is in our custody. The choice is yours.”

  Voss waited a long time for a response, but the enemy wasn’t squawking. During the wait he contacted the Archons and arranged for an SR to be dispatched to board and recover the ship…something their drone corvette couldn’t do. They’d already prepped a number of ships for this purpose but the nearest one was 18 hours away, which meant they needed to get it moving as soon as possible.

  Fifty minutes into the wait Voss finally got a response from the enemy.

  There was a secondary viewscreen on the bridge of the Turok showing the camera telemetry from the corvette, with the warship sitting quietly in the center of the screen without so much as a thruster puff. Voss visibly jumped in his seat when the previously steady image mushroomed out in a debris-ridden, fireless explosion that utterly destroyed the ship.

  “That wasn’t me,” the pilot said, aghast.

  Voss’s jaw clenched in anger. “Did our ship take any hits?”

  “All systems show operational, save for the initial missile damage. I have no way of checking the armor without an auxiliary camera.”

  “Keep the ship where it is, we need to be able to locate the debris when the SR arrives. They might be able to salvage something,” Voss said, disgusted.

  One of the other bridge staff shook her head, not believing what had just happened. “They did that on purpose?”

  “Whoever they are,” Voss said slowly
, “they don’t want us to know.”

  “But to kill themselves?” she asked.

  “More to the point,” the 1st officer chimed in, “why would they build a ship with a self-destruct in the first place? That was a warhead explosion, and it came from inside the ship, not the missile racks…meaning they designed the ship that way.”

  “Oh my god,” one of the pilots whispered.

  “These people are killers,” Voss said, trying to give some clarity to the moment. “Don’t expect them to be rational.”

  “What now?” the 1st officer asked.

  “We know this isn’t the only ship on the prowl,” Voss said, thinking ahead. “We let the Archons pick apart the debris, maybe gleam some idea who these people are. As far as we’re concerned the hunt goes on minus the corvette…and we start by backtracking this one’s approach line. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find its point of origin. If not, we keep searching and clearing orbital grids until we find them.”

  “Or wait until they strike again,” the corvette pilot muttered.

  Voss didn’t respond to the comment, but he knew the man was probably right.

  8

  November 13, 2059

  Paul walked into the control room, his hair still wet from a recent shower, and found Roger studying the orbital map. “What have we got?”

  “Harper picked up another radar contact with no transponder traveling in zone 6 on no apparent intercept and sent a cutter to shadow it. After a course correction it headed for the traffic lanes, hopefully for a rendezvous.”

  “Hopefully?”

  “The cutter got close enough to give Cyclops coordinates and we pulled several visuals,” Roger said, pointing Paul to an auxiliary screen. “There doesn’t appear to be any missile racks, so either it’s carrying different weapons or it’s a cargo ship.”