by Ben Jeapes
But instead they had boosted out of orbit together. Not long after three others, all safely at the rear of the fleet, had done the same, heading in three different directions.
They should all have done that at the start, Gilmore thought angrily. The four ships of Krishnamurthy’s alliance couldn’t have hoped to subdue the rest of the ships scattered throughout the system. Rule One of the manual of space combat that he was mentally drafting would be: if you want to avoid a fight, a clean pair of heels is the best solution. Come to think of it, not an amazing philosophical insight.
And now most of the ships that could have scattered had done so. The Israelis, the other two Chinas, the rest of the Africans, all the Asian countries, most of the American countries, the Vatican, the Holy Arab Union ... all showing far more sense than the ships belonging to Prince James and his friends. The five allied ships stayed in formation, Ark Royal considerately hemmed in not just by her friends but by the opposition all around: Great Zimbabwe above, Long March behind, and Shivaji and Pacifica in front. A couple of miles behind Long March sat the South American Combine’s Simón Bolívar and the Galactic Corporation’s Excalibur, which so far had stayed silent. The five allies hung in space and made a nice juicy target, while the enemy gathered round and slavered.
Great Zimbabwe and Long March were holding their position but Shivaji and Pacifica were moving in closer – still out of laser range, but closer – and coming round to face their target. It looked as if this was, indeed, it. He instinctively checked the time, though the log would already have noted it: 00.05. If the Battle of the Roving went down in history it would be noted as having happened on 22 May, 2149.
Rule Two in the manual would be: if you must design a ship to fight, design it so that it can fire in all directions. The weapons on those ships, like his own, faced forward only. Manoeuvring to fire was a bit of a giveaway, like the old sailing times when ships could chase each other in full view for a day before coming within gun range.
“This is Shivaji,” said a voice on general band. “Your final chance to signal your surrender.”
“Say nothing,” Gilmore said, on the conference band. No one replied.
“In-” Nichol’s voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat. “Incoming.”
The radar showed a small object streaking towards them from the Pacifica. Without thinking, Gilmore slapped at the laser panel on his desk and the object vanished. Out in space, the first torpedo fired in anger in space had just been vaporised by a beam of coherent light.
Rule Three – your laser AI is unlikely to distinguish between a torpedo and a meteorite so long as it is clearly heading for your ship. Don’t discourage it.
“All ships, set your lasers to automatic,” Gilmore said. Lasers were usually on manual in orbit, in case the computer mistook the intentions of an innocent transport capsule, but exceptions could be made.
The one torpedo must have been a test firing because suddenly Shivaji and Pacifica together let off a cloud of torpedoes. The lasers on Ark Royal, Enterprise and Algol opened up in return and the two met halfway. The forward viewer showed a new starfield springing into life between the ships as the torpedoes exploded and evaporated in bursts of molten light.
And through the cloud of seething debris came a fresh wave. The laser systems, half blinded by the results of their own success, were slow to react. They recharged and opened up again, but still at least half the newcomers flew on.
These weren’t nuclear weapons; the Rusties wouldn’t have tolerated that and the aim was to cripple and capture the ships, not destroy them. Half a mile from the ships the torpedoes burst open and a thick mass of metal hurtled from them. The lasers recalibrated again and opened fire, and then the mass struck the ships. Ark Royal vibrated under the impact.
“We’re spinning! Sir, we’re spinning!” Nichol yelped. The gyroscopes and the viewers showed it was true – Ark Royal was spinning slowly around its centre of gravity.
“Then correct it,” Gilmore said shortly. Training simulators presented worse cases than this.
“Aye aye, sir,” said Nichol, chastened, and together they fired the thrusters that steadied the ship.
“Where were we hit?”
“Leading face of the ring compartment,” said Nichol, poring over the instruments. “Holed fore and aft, but no lines severed and the ring appears to be intact.”
“Good.” Ark Royal’s small size had protected her as the grapeshot passed, with only one strike on her largest surface area.
The larger ships hadn’t been so lucky – he could see dark patches in their skins where there had been none before. Gilmore thought that this was how warfare had once been between ships: they sat a short distance apart and poured broadsides into each other until one was more full of holes than the other.
“Ark Royal. Your condition, everyone?” said Gilmore.
“Bruxelles. Several forward compartments holed. No casualties.”
“Enterprise. We-”
“Incoming from Long March!”
A burst of torpedoes from the Chinese ship astern, and now it was the turn of Bruxelles and Nikolai to protect the formation. The lasers of two ships against the torpedoes of one was a closer match and not one got through.
As abruptly as it had started, the fighting stopped. The ships still hung in orbit as if none of this had happened. Gilmore slowly relaxed, keeping part of his mind on full alert, to see what would happen next.
“Excalibur and Simón Bolívar to all ships. We are declaring neutrality and leaving orbit. We will defend ourselves if attacked.”
The two remaining ships of the fleet that had not yet been caught up in the conflict fired their main engines together. They were astern of Long March and their course took them beneath the allies and their attackers, passing between ships and planet.
“Thanks for the help,” Nichol muttered.
“They made a wise decision,” Arm Wild said.
No they haven’t, Gilmore thought. That course will take them right in front of the enemy’s guns. They could have worked that out ...
The two ships had almost reached the fleet. Their trajectories were unchanged but they were bringing their prows up to point at the allied ships. Gilmore’s mental antennae began to twitch.
“Bruxelles and Nikolai, stand by!” he shouted suddenly. “Get your lasers ready-”
Simón Bolívar and Excalibur were still astern of the allies but were angled up and pointing directly at them, and the two abruptly unleashed a new volley of torpedoes at close range. The lasers on Nikolai and Bruxelles opened up in return but the closeness of the attackers meant there was less time to intercept all the incoming fire: more got through and Bruxelles and Enterprise shook with further blows. Now the two attackers were passing beneath the allies and were close enough to use their own lasers: beams raked all five ships, scorching trails along their hulls, fusing exposed circuitry and mechanisms, knocking out systems.
That was a dirty trick, Gilmore thought. Well, they had started it.
“Algol, Enterprise,” he said. “Stand by to target their main engines as they go past. All target Simón Bolívar first.” The two attackers were now ahead of the allies.
“Fire,” he said, and the three beams converged on Simón Bolívar’s main engine block. Main engines were built to take a stream of fusion explosions, but the combined energy of three beams caused the metal to glow red, then white, and then erupt in a cloud of molten vapour.
As Simón Bolívar started to tumble they switched fire to Excalibur, but the ship was already too far away and the lasers did less damage.
“Yes!” Nichol shouted as the South American ship began to tumble. At that speed, and now with no main engine to slow down with, Simón Bolívar was well out of the conflict: the crew should be able to work it into a higher orbit until repairs were finished. Excalibur turned to brake and took up position behind Pacifica and Shivaji, abandoning its ally to sort out its own problems.
Then Pacifica and
Shivaji opened up again with more grapeshot, and again Long March sent in its own burst from astern.
“Bruxelles, Algol, return fire,” Gilmore said and the two ships did so with a barrage of their own torpedoes. Ark Royal shivered from another blow: a piece of shot had struck the bow and glanced along it, again hitting the invitingly flat, broad front face of the ring compartment. This time the ship wasn’t punctured and there wasn’t enough force in the blow to start another spin.
Strangely, Gilmore thought with pity of Surit Amijee, the gentle Hindu in command of Shivaji. He didn’t doubt that the NVN were breathing down his neck; had maybe taken over altogether. They were firing the torpedoes, they were planning the destruction of the ships that opposed them. Not Amijee. But this kind of thing could really strain a friendship.
And what was Shivaji’s battle AI doing now? What was going through its tiny little mind? And to think that it was on the same ship as his own software officer. Peter Kirton would work out a way to baffle it, no doubt-
“A ship is manoeuvring,” Arm Wild said. “Great Zimbabwe, I believe.” The ship above them was rotating to face down towards the planet and the alliance ships. Gilmore pictured the scene from its crew’s point of view: the entire length of Algol in front of them, unmissable.
“Ong, tell your crew to brace,” he said. “Expect-”
“Tell me something I don’t know, Gilmore,” Ong snapped. Algol had already started to turn towards the Southern African ship. “We’re-”
Great Zimbabwe unleashed a burst of torpedoes, pumping them into Algol at a point blank range of a mile. It might as well have been a solid mass of metal: Algol shuddered visibly and some debris must have passed right through because her skin erupted on the far side, away from the impact. Algol was tumbling and thrusters spurted on her hull as her crew tried to get her under control.
A point on Great Zimbabwe’s prow glowed red, then white.
“Got her!” Ong shouted. “Sealed her tubes shut.”
Rule Four: keep your distance. “What’s your damage, Algol?” Gilmore said.
“Still assessing.” A pause. “Casualties.” Ong sounded strained. “At least twenty. Severe holing, majority of central compartments punctured. Fore and aft systems operating independently, connecting lines severed. Thanks for the advice to depressurise, Ark Royal, we’d have been torn apart if we’d had air, but this passive resistance thing is a mug’s game. We’ve got to take the fight to them-”
“No!” Gilmore insisted. “We’re the injured parties here, we mustn’t be seen to get aggressive-”
“Your ship hasn’t just been riddled by grapeshot! You haven’t just been rendered unfit for spaceflight and you haven’t just lost crew! If you’ve got a better plan, let’s hear it.”
“Um – newcomer, sir,” Nichol said cautiously. Radar showed another ship rising up from orbit, maintaining a safe distance from the others. The ease with which it attained its orbit, and the fact that it just stopped, a hundred miles away, showed it to be a Rustie, as if there could have been any doubt. The ship was too far away to be caught up in any of the fighting. “Come to watch, I suppose,” Nichol said bitterly. “Wonder how they feel about this?” Then he remembered. “Sorry, Arm Wild.”
“I understand,” Arm Wild said. “Believe me, they will not be enjoying watching this.”
“So why don’t your people step in and stop it, then?”
“I expect they have their reasons,” Gilmore said. The reply was automatic – he didn’t much feel like conversation with his juniors right now, and it wasn’t fair to dump guilt on Arm Wild – but despite himself it sparked off a new thought process. Why didn’t the Rusties step in? Because they had their reasons. Which were? Unknowable.
“They do,” Arm Wild said. “You do not at present pose a threat to us.”
“You mean, as long as we’re just chucking lumps at each other?” said Nichol.
“Precisely. You are in a sufficiently high orbit for it not to matter.”
“So when would it start mattering?” Nichol was beginning to sound desperate.
“Keep an eye on the enemy,” Gilmore said sharply, to snap the younger man out of what he sensed was a rising cycle of hysteria. Arm Wild still answered the question.
“We cannot become involved in your conflict, Lieutenant. You will have to judge for yourselves when it would start to matter.”
“Arm Wild,” Gilmore said, “I take it you put us in this high orbit for a reason?”
“Precisely the reason I have stated, Captain: so that any fighting between yourselves would not affect us.”
“What would I do in your place?” Gilmore wondered out loud. “I’m inviting a fleet of armed alien ships to take up position around my world, and I’m fairly certain they’re going to start squabbling ...”
Arm Wild simply looked at him, but Gilmore had the sudden notion that the Rustie was willing him towards a conclusion.
“Maybe,” he continued, “I’d declare a zone in orbit? Let their fighting confine itself to that, but if it extends beyond it-”
Yet another burst of grapeshot broke off the train of thought and again Ark Royal’s laser opened up. It was all happening so quickly, automatic laser was the only way-
He looked thoughtfully at Shivaji’s image. The Confederation ship’s laser would be connected to the battle AI – bound to be. No point in having two systems doing the same job in parallel, with one perhaps making its own innocent plans when the other depended on it to do something else.
Krishnamurthy’s people had taken great care not to offend the Rusties and so the battle AI would have been programmed with certain safeguards: for instance, if they had really wanted to eliminate the allies, a volley of fusion warheads would have done the trick. Just as with the grapeshot, some would have got through, and with the ships all grouped together so ... but no, nuclear explosions in orbit would certainly annoy the Rusties.
Gilmore looked again at Shivaji and grinned. “Mr Nichol,” he said, “stand by to plot a course and power up the main engine. Comms, get me the other captains. Algol, can you still manoeuvre? We need you facing Shivaji.”
*
The seconds were ticking by on the display over Gilmore’s desk and he knew the tense look on Nichol’s face exactly mirrored his own. Arm Wild stayed silent: the Rustie had neither confirmed nor denied that his tactic would work. Twelve fifty nine and 57 seconds, 58, 59-
At 01:00 exactly, Algol and Enterprise opened with their own torpedoes, sending a deluge of debris directly at Shivaji. At 01:00.01, Ark Royal’s fusion engine fired and weight came to the flight deck, pressing Gilmore, Nichol and Arm Wild into their couches as the ship accelerated in the torpedoes’ wake towards the Confederation vessel.
The lasers on Shivaji and Pacifica, both tuned to Shivaji’s battle AI, opened up on the first wave of the attack by reflex. A moment later, the AI noticed to its surprise that a five thousand ton spaceship was accelerating towards it in the shadow of the torpedoes. For a moment it considered targeting just the ship with the laser, but it knew that Pacifica’s laser alone could not deal with all the torpedoes and the attacking ship would still have most of its mass by the time it hit. Shivaji would sustain damage outside the recommended parameters.
Then it considered ordering both lasers to target the ship. That would leave the torpedoes unimpeded and again irreconcilable damage would occur.
With more time to spare it would have consulted a human, but it knew humans were achingly slow at making any decisions. And so it made one by itself and had acted accordingly before a horrified Muna Lahiri noticed and could countermand.
“They’ve fired!” Nichol said. The radar showed a single torpedo leaving Shivaji.
“Go!” Gilmore shouted.
The rumble of the engine turned to a roar and a massive, crushing weight descended upon them. Nichol bellowed as four gees piled on top of them and Ark Royal leapt forward. Shivaji loomed in the display and then the picture whitened out. They had moved
too quickly to trigger the torpedo’s proximity detector and the battle AI had decided to laser them after all; this mad ship intent on colliding with them took priority over everything else.
But Ark Royal was not intent on colliding with Shivaji, just in coming damn close. Still Gilmore grit his teeth: I’ve left it too close we’re going to hit I’ve left it too close we’re going to hit-
There was a glimpse through the viewport of Shivaji’s skin as they shot by, metres away, and then Ark Royal was out the other side, heading rapidly out of orbit and into space. The engine cut off and the return of free fall was blissful.
Behind them, between Shivaji and the four remaining allied ships, there was a flash of brilliantly white light. The torpedo barrage still had to be dealt with and so the battle AI had chosen that as the secondary target.
“We did it!” Nichol yelled. “We did it!”
“We don’t know if it’s worked yet,” Gilmore said. “Get us back into orbit, while we still can. I’d hate to have to ask the Rusties for a tow.”
*
[Distress] <
Iron Run studied the display carefully. [Interrogative] <
[Affirmation]
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Iron Run turned to its military advisor. [Interrogative] <
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[Problematic]
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