The Hot Gate: Troy Rising III-ARC

by John Ringo

  Not surprising in Butch’s opinion. The Orion drive had gotten hammered. All there was was a stump. Where the rest of the drive was was anybody’s guess.

  Not many of the Rangora missiles had missed the drive. It was a pretty big target. But the combination of transferred energy and the couple of near misses had the three kilometer wide, multi-billion ton door just stuck as hell.

  “Yeah,” Trotman commed. “Engineers are trying to figure that out. Supposedly Sol forces from Troy are coming through to help out. But we’d like to be able to get the ships out of the main bay. So far there’s a lot of head scratching.”

  “Well, it ain’t like they can hit it with a hammer...”

  * * *

  “We’re overthinking this. Hit it with a hammer.”

  “Got a hammer the size of Mjolnir on you?”

  “Missiles.”

  “It’s already been hit by missiles. That’s the problem.”

  “Other way around. It’s six thousand one hundred and twenty meters across the main bay. Thunderbolt have a thousand gravs of accel. Lots of kinetic impact.”

  “You want to fire missiles inside the main bay. At the door. You got any idea what kind of spalling that’s going to cause? The debris?”

  “And keep firing until it opens. Kinetic energetics are cumulative. If you’ve got a big enough hammer...”

  * * *

  “Fire missiles at the door?” Admiral Clemons said. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “It’s the best they can come up with, sir,” Commodore Guptill said. “Without SAPL we can’t do a recut. They don’t even really know it will work. If it doesn’t, all our mobile units are more or less grounded.”

  “Leonidas? Granadica?”

  “I don’t care for it,” Leonidas replied.

  “Neither do I!” Admiral Clemons said.

  “That does not mean I am not in favor,” Leonidas added. “I, too, see few other options if our cavalry is to be useable.”

  “Actually, I got a better one,” Granadica said. “Just hatching it.”

  “Which is?” Admiral Clemons asked.

  “Same basic idea. Just better.”

  * * *

  “What the hell is that coming out of Granadica?”

  Granadica had been producing a lot of “stuff” while overseeing maintenance. Mostly it was off-the-shelf. She’d produced a brand new Independence class, dozens of shuttles and tugs.

  Dana wasn’t sure what was coming out this time. It was about the size of an Independence. But there were no weapons on it nor any evidence of tractor systems. So it wasn’t a warship or a tug. There was, however, three suspiciously larges bulb amidships that indicated massive annie plants and the fore of the thing was shaped like a ram’s head.

  “I call it Mjolnir,” Granadica answered. “Like it? I was in the middle of producing a Constitution. So I sort of...squashed it up.”

  “No,” Dana said. “I don’t like it. Because it looks like you’re about to hammer something really big.”

  “Sure am,” Granadica said. “Hold onto your socks. In fact, better reinforce your docking clamps.”

  “All ships, all boats, undock. Remain at stations. All personnel, prepare for high level auditory transfer and possible anomalous acceleration. All ships. Undock. Remain at stations. All personnel...”

  “Oh, frackety, frackety, frack...” Dana muttered, hitting the release on her docking clamps.

  “What is she talking about?” Angelito asked.

  “First rule of engineering,” Dana said.

  “Which is...?”

  * * *

  “Look, I don’t tell you about war, you don’t tell me about engineering, Leonidas!”

  “This is a most unsound concept, Granadica...”

  “It’s the first law of engineering...!”

  * * *

  “What in the Emperor’s name is that?” Lieutenant Lanniph muttered. It couldn’t be heard, simply felt beneath the feet.

  “Feels like...hammering, sir,” Private Zhogiruv replied. The threesome were moving back along their line of advance for “link-up with reinforcing party.” And now this.

  “It must be close,” Lanniph said. “The mass of this thing would swallow the feel of hammering. Ilugach. Point.”

  “Why m...” The private stopped and blanched. “Yes, sir.”

  “If someone is hammering, presumably they are not also setting traps.”

  * * *

  It was called “elastic rebound.” Anyone who had ever hit an anvil with a hammer recognized it. Equally, a baseball. When two bodies of more or less equal sturdiness collide, the less massive body notably rebounds. What is less noticeable is that the more massive body rebounds. Distance and speed depends upon the relative mass and velocities.

  The Mjolnir had only come at the door from a distance once. And even that was from the middle of the bay. The massive maneuver horns were too much of an obstacle to accelerate all the way across the bay.

  But it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t about a single hard hit. The Mjolnir rebounded less than one hundred meters then, under the power of two Constitution Class drive systems with less than one Connie mass, accelerated back towards the door and hit with a clang that was, practically, audible in vacuum. Each impact transferred kinetic energy disparately to the weakest points. Thus, most of the energy was falling on the welds.

  The welds were going to break eventually. The only question was how long.

  * * *

  “General, we are getting reports of hammering from...multiple sources,” Colonel Ufupoth said. The Operations officer of Infantry Battle Group Thoggon appeared puzzled.

  “What sectors?” General Thoggon asked. “And what are they planning, now?”

  The general had every bit of intelligence on his enemy he could ask. He knew where Richard “Dick” Denny was born. His family history. His children. Every battle he had ever engaged in from when he was a private, and that was simply unbelievable, until the first Battle of Eridani were available. Thoggon had analysis after analysis on the general’s forces, the Pathan command structure and its American “advisors” who were the de facto commanders. Pathan history and culture. The overall design of the Thermopylae. Detail maps for the military and civilian personnel centers.

  All if it had told him beforehand that this might be a punishing battle. The degree of punishment was the surprising part. His men, most of them green troops, were being brutally slaughtered in the maze that the humans had constructed in the walls. And entering the laser and missile tubes, the shortest route to the main bay, was out of the question. Despite firing their entire complement, the Thermopylae was producing missiles fast enough that the occasional projectile was being thrown out just to keep them on their tails.

  “That is the puzzling aspect,” Ufupoth said. “Reports are coming from every sector. We can’t localize a source. If anything it appears strongest in Sector Sixteen but it is more or less evenly distributed.”

  “Hammering?” Thoggon said.

  “Slow repetition, sir,” Ufupoth said. “Audio from a deck mike.”

  The general listened for a moment, puzzled.

  “It sounds almost like someone hammering on a hatch,” Thoggon said. “As if they were signaling for...” His scales stood straight up. “Hammering on a hatch!”

  “What could...” Ufupoth asked. “General, they have nothing that could produce this level of kinetic impact!”

  “I don’t care,” Thoggon said. “They’ve found a hammer!”

  “We are cut off from the fleet by their missile cloud,” Ufupoth said. “If they can sally...” He paused as an officer whispered in his ear then his scales went up in turn. “General, the gate has cycled. Large mass footprint. Signal is from Sol system.”

  “I doubted that it was reinforcements for us,” Thoggon said. “That would be good news! CRACK THESE BLASTED MAMMALS! We’ve got the most penetration in Sectors Nine and Fourteen. Redeploy all forces into those sectors. Poin
t out to them that using the surface is not a survivable exercise.”

  * * *

  “Admiral Marchant,” Admiral Clemons said, grinning. “Glad to see you could make the party. Even happier to see the missiles. Looks like the Troy ran itself dry.”

  “That she did,” Marchant said, grinning back. “But all in a good cause. It appears someone has broken your little toy ball, Admiral.”

  “Nothing Apollo can’t fix,” Clemons said. “I hope.”

  “I was given to understand your cockleshells would be awaiting us?” Marchant said.

  “The door is most thoroughly jammed,” Clemons admitted. “But we’re working on...”

  “IT WORKED?” Commodore Guptill screamed. “Holy freaking gods of the North! It worked!”

  “Someone sounds excited,” Marchant said. “Uh... Admiral your door is kind of...”

  The side view showed that the multi-billion ton door was not only heavily dinged on the inside but had, in places, ripped away hull metal. The hinge pins of the Troy were the size of the now vanished twin towers but unlike those structures were made of solid stainless steel.

  Now they were stainless steel pretzels.

  “Open,” Clemons said. “And we’re not going to get it closed soon, so kindly keep those Rangora from using their shuttles. Commodore, order all mobile units to proceed for deployment.”

  “Proceed for deployment, aye,” Commodore Guptill said. “It worked?”

  * * *

  “First law of engineering, Leonidas,” Granadica sent. “If you can’t fix it, you’re not using a big enough hammer.”

  THIRTY

  “This is crazy!” Angelito said, carefully following the caret.

  “This is an inherently unsafe profession, Angel,” Deb said, trying not to sound nervous. It wasn’t just that the door wasn’t quite completely open, requiring a bit of maneuvering to get out into the Dark. It wasn’t just that she still didn’t trust Angelito’s driving. It was that it required a bit of maneuvering, she didn’t trust Angelito’s driving and at least in his case she could, in a pinch, take over. That wasn’t the case with the other units—a Monkey Business class, nine Paw tugs, thirty-six Myrmidons, two Aggressors, four Constitutions and six Independence class—all passing through the door-tunnel in one massive cluster...pack.

  “Watch the...watch the...”

  “I’m watching the...”

  “Yaw!” Deb barked as Twenty-Three side-swiped a Paw tug. Both units were designed for durability but the Paw tug outmassed them by twice and the Myrmidon started sliding hard to port and down with a grinding screech of tortured metal. Towards the wall of the chamber which more or less defined “durability.”

  “Do you want to...” Angelito said, getting the shuttle under control.

  “No,” Deb replied, crossing her arms. “This is your job, CN Angelito. And you can do it. Just take a breath.” She leaned forward and sighed. “Frackety frack... Besides, I need to get out the toolbox.”

  “Yeah, I’m...” Angelito said, trying not to whimper. “I think I’m missing...”

  “Starboard lower thrust control?” Deb asked, pulling out her toolbag and ripping up a panel. “As I said, your bird, cox. But turn on the repulsor screens. Let the next Paw get a load of a gigawatt of angry force shield...”

  * * *

  “Colonel To’Jopeviq to CIC... Colonel To’Jopeviq Lieutenant Beor to CIC...”

  “I’m not sure what use we can be at this juncture,” To’Jopeviq said, unnecessarily straightening his tunic. “I suppose they could just be starting the disintegrator party early.”

  “I doubt that,” Beor said, following him out of the intel section. “We work directly for High Command. General Sho’Duphuder doesn’t have the priorities to remove us.”

  “Colonel,” General Sho’Duphuder said as they entered the command center. “A truce of sorts has been arranged. The humans are redeploying their light forces to engage us but in the meantime they would like to remove their diplomats from the battlefield.”

  “I take it was have agreed to that, sir?” To’Jopeviq said.

  “On certain conditions,” the General said, dryly. “I considered one of the conditions being calling a cease fire and permission to withdraw all of our forces. But that was unlikely to be accepted. The battle is not yet lost but numbers do not lie. And the shuttles from the Thermopylae are returning to earth, presumably for more Marines.

  “I must compliment you, Colonel, and I will do so formally. Your plan, with the firepower suggested, would have worked. This debacle was simply, again, ignoring the suggestions of your team. Which is why one of the requirements I demanded was that you and your...assistant be allowed to withdraw with our diplomatic group.”

  “I would prefer to remain, sir,” To’Jopeviq said, tightly.

  “And if I may, sir?” Beor said. “He really isn’t being pro forma.”

  “More or less expected,” Sho’Duphuder said. “And the order remains. Among other things, I do not want the humans getting their hands on two analysts from the upper command. And next time, perhaps, you can convince someone that your analyses are not overstated. There is a shuttle standing by. Don’t bother to pack.”

  * * *

  “Thirty-Three.”

  “Thirty-Three, go,” Dana said, trying not to sigh in relief as they exited the tunnel and the formation started to spread.

  “Conditions: Temporary state of cease-fire to get the diplomats on all sides out. Orders: Proceed to Ogut ship to take on diplomatic personnel. ROE is only fire if fired upon. Max rate authorized. Return to gate and transfer single if necessary.”

  “Pick up the diplomats, aye,” Dana said. “Don’t fire at the Rangora, aye. Boost it, aye. Get the hell out of dodge, aye. Angel, you heard the man.”

  “The most direct route takes us close to the Rangora fleet.”

  “Hopefully they got the word,” Dana said, tightening her straps and abs. “Kick this horse, Angel.”

  * * *

  “Colonel, shuttle pilot.”

  “Go, pilot.”

  The vessel was a no frills military shuttle. Hopefully the envoys would not take that as an insult. To’Jopeviq was still hoping to get out of this debacle with his head attached and pissed off diplomats would not help.

  “Human shuttle vectoring in our direction. Closest point of approach will be within one thousand kilometers. Orders.”

  “Ignore it,” To’Jopeviq said. “They’re probably on the same mission. Do not fire. Do you comply?”

  “Comply with orders to not fire, Colonel,” the pilot said. “It is not that I am blood thirsty, Colonel. But failure to engage the enemy could be looked upon as cowardice.”

  “Understood,” To’Jopeviq said. “This is an “unofficial” cease-fire. Assuming we lived, we would get in even more trouble for restarting things as both sides are trying to pull out their non-combatants.”

  * * *

  “That’s nearly the size of a frigate,” Angel said. “Are you sure it’s a shuttle?”

  “Ubogho class,” Dana said. “Apparently refers to a fast carnivorous xenorept pseudo-avian on Rangor. Call it a peregrine.”

  “Where in the hell do you learn all this?” Angel asked, shaking his head.

  “Continuous study of relevant information, CN,” Dana said. “Now pay attention. We’re getting into Rangora space.”

  * * *

  “They are assuming a parallel course,” the pilot commed. “And pulling ahead of us. Their acceleration is close to three hundred and fifty Rangora gravities.”

  “ ‘What did they get in the update?’ ” To’Jopeviq quoted quietly.

  “Everything,” Beor said. “And they spend treasure on such a minor system.”

  “Their screens will shed any ground portable system but a penetrator missile,” To’Jopeviq said. “What is that human saying: Bullets not bodies.”

  “American specifically,” Beor said.

  “Noted,” To’Jopeviq said. “I re
call that after the last great war they engaged upon, they rebuilt their enemy’s countries. I wonder if after this war I can get a job with them?” He paused and froze. “That was not intended to...”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Beor admitted. “But all things considered, you’re more likely than I.”

  * * *

  “Peregrine hell,” Dana muttered, watching the rapidly opening vector between the two shuttles.

  Dana grinned for a moment then keyed a switch. The fact that they were not only flying through the Rangora’s primary fire basket but were within visual range of the AV caused her to pause for a moment then key the com.

  “Ubogho hell,” she commed. “Eat space dust, Rangora Shuttle Six-One-Four.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Angel asked.

  “What?” Dana said. “Suds don’t do smack-down talk?”

  * * *

  “Toothy,” To’Jopeviq said, ruffling his spines. The pilot had automatically transferred the transmission as soon as the human shuttle opened up the channel.

  “Timber is for a human female,” Beor said.

  “Pilot, open channel.”

  * * *

  “I suppose they chose females so they are small enough to fit in that small scavenger shell?”

  “Ooo,” Angel said. “All it needs is something about your moth... Shit, miss...”

  “Not a problem,” Dana said. “And it’s EM. It’s not what you’ve got, it’s how you owned it. And you’re being owned.”

  * * *

  “...are being used as a slave to clean out shit pits.”

  “You realize you are in easy range of laser fire,” To’Jopeviq said. “Accidents happen.”