by Dietmar Wehr
“Welcome aboard Intransigent, Fleet Commander,” said Ortega as he saluted.
Wellington returned the salute almost out of reflex, but his mind was savoring his new title. Fleet Commander might technically be junior to his permanent position as Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Navy, but it definitely sounded more impressive.
“Thank you, Captain. No time for the usual pleasantries now. Let’s get to our respective command stations. As they made their way there, Wellington said, “If you suspected that the incoming fleet was not a Shogunate force, how would you go about proving that?”
Ortega caught on quickly. “You think it might be a DE false flag, sir?”
“It’s a possibility that I don’t think we should ignore.”
They arrived at the Flag Bridge first, and Ortega stopped as well.
“If those ships do belong to Delisani, then they have to represent a significant portion of his fleet. If that’s the case, then his Capital system might be weakly defended, and if we were to send a task force in that direction, perhaps even with a transmission telling the incoming fleet that the Delisani Capital is going to be attacked, they might break off their approach here and head for home instead, sir.”
“Interesting idea, Captain. Thank you for that. Get to your Bridge now.”
The Flag Bridge was abuzz with noise and activity. The crew had been picked literally at the last minute to man the Flag Bridge. Wellington understood that picking Intransigent as his Flagship was playing havoc with its crew schedules, but that would have been true of any other ship. One more minor impact of not having designated a Fleet Commander sooner. Wellington stepped over to his Command Station and noticed that someone had had the presence of mind to put a pressure suit and helmet there for his use. The prospect of needing to put it on, of facing the risk of explosive decompression or of being hit by razor-sharp shrapnel, caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He couldn’t decide what was worse: the possibility of being blamed for a defeat or of being horribly injured or killed in battle. It then occurred to him that being horribly injured and being blamed for a defeat was entirely possible, and he shuddered at the thought of it.
He sat down and looked at the main display, oblivious to the curious stares of the Flag Bridge personnel who were expecting some kind of greeting or pep talk from the new Fleet Commander. The sidebar was now showing an ETA for the arrival of the incoming ships at Avalon orbit of 41 minutes. The Fleet had remained in orbit around Atlantia for the 24 minutes it took its new Fleet Commander, Wellington, to arrive, and he would not get those 24 minutes back. He was acutely aware that everyone was expecting him to issue orders, but he had no idea of how to proceed. Heading out to meet the incoming fleet head on had not worked out very well for Admiral Saville, but then again, he had faced a force armed with Type 7 missiles. If this was a Delisani fleet, then Wellington didn’t have to worry about those much deadlier weapons. The prospect of engaging in a head-on missile duel threatened to make him nauseous. He forced himself to look at the Fleet’s Table of Organization. It was composed of four task forces. Intransigent belonged to Task Force 3. The other three task forces were 1, 2 and 5. Wellington decided to try Ortega’s idea.
“I want to speak with Task Force 1 Leader,” he said as forcefully as he could manage.
The com technician acknowledged the order and had the com channel established within seconds. “TF1 Leader is on TacCom3, Admiral.”
Wellington looked down at his console and realized he didn’t know how to switch the station’s speakers and microphone to that tactical com channel. The current com channel setting was for TacCom1.
“Ah, shift that connection to TacCom1,” he ordered. He pretended not to notice the surprised look on the com technician’s face.
“Yes, sir. TF1 Leader is now on TacCom1, Admiral.”
“Admiral Quartermain, this is Fleet Commander Wellington.”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“I strongly suspect that the incoming force is not, I repeat, not a Shogunate fleet but rather a Delisani Empire force attempting to make us think they’re Shogunate. Here’s what I want Task Force 1 to do. You will immediately break out of orbit and accelerate at maximum on a heading for the Delisani Capital system. If this works as I expect, I’ll send a recall message before you enter uber-space. Wellington out.” He found the cutoff switch just as Quatermain started asking a question.
It took a full minute before Task Force 1 began to break out of orbit. As soon as he had confirmation of that, Wellington ordered the com technician to record a message to be sent to the incoming force.
“ ’Attention, fleet approaching Avalon. We know that you are from the Delisani Empire. This incursion is being considered by my King as an Act of War. A fleet has therefore been ordered to head for the Delisani Capital system to attack it. If you break off your attack on Avalon, our fleet will be recalled.’ End of message. Send that right away.” He knew that it would take at least 15 minutes for the message to reach the enemy fleet, but their gravity wave sensors would see Task Force 1 leaving orbit much sooner than that, and they’d be able to estimate its heading precisely enough to realize where it was going.
One of Wellington’s Command Station screens activated to show Captain Ortega. “Admiral, may I inquire when you plan on taking the Fleet out of orbit?”
Wellington’s heart started beating fast again. He wasn’t used to having his orders or lack of them questioned. “I haven’t decided that yet, Captain. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Well, sir, I’d be in favor of leaving orbit sooner rather than later. The farther we are from Avalon when the shooting starts, the less chance of a stray missile hitting the planet.”
Wellington realized that he had forgotten that important consideration. “I’m reluctant to use our L-drives now, Captain. I’d like to see their reaction to Task Force 1 leaving orbit first, but we can definitely use our EG-drives to put some distance between us and Avalon. What trajectory would you recommend?”
Ortega blinked a couple of times in surprise. Surely the answer to that question was obvious. The only trajectory that made any tactical sense for a defending force was head-on. Anything else would give the incoming force an opening to drop into orbit and bombard the surface or threaten to do so unless the King surrendered. Didn’t the Admiral see that?
“Ah, I would recommend that we take a reciprocal trajectory, Admiral. If we’re going to fire on them, a head-on approach will maximize hit probabilities.”
Wellington felt like an idiot. Of course, a head-on approach was the best strategy. He’d seen enough simulations to have figured that out. The request for a recommendation had been blurted out before he realized how silly that question was.
“Yes, of course. I was just checking to see if you agreed with my own thinking. Thank you, Captain.”
Wellington was relieved when Ortega’s image disappeared from the screen. He then remembered that the fleet needed to move away from the planet.
“Astrogator, plot a head-on trajectory for the Fleet using EG-drives only. As soon as you have it, disseminate it to the Fleet and execute.”
The astrogation officer turned to look at Wellington. “Just confirming your order, Admiral, for using EG-drive only?”
“Yes, correct.”
It took several minutes before the entire fleet was accelerating at 5.5Gs. By the time the enemy fleet reached missile range, the Atlantian fleet would only be a few tens of thousands of kilometers away from the planet, but Wellington hoped that would be enough. He kept his focus on the main display and ignored the whispers that were coming from the personnel around him. The tactical display was showing not only the ships of both sides but also the expanding circle that represented the distance his message was reaching. When it finally passed the enemy fleet, he held his breath for their reaction. If they ignored Task Force 1, then they really were a Shogunate fleet. One minute passed, then another. Wellington was just about to admit to himself that his theory
had been wrong when the display pinged to draw attention to a status change. The enemy force had stopped decelerating! Was it possible that they were changing their trajectory?
The display pinged again. The enemy fleet had resumed acceleration, but they were now accelerating in a radically different direction.
“Astrogation Officer, can you tell what they’re up to?”
The officer cleared his throat before answering. “Ah, it’s too early to know for sure, Admiral, but they could be veering off, or they could be coming around to an interception vector in an attempt to get within missile range of Task Force 1. They have enough overtake velocity to reach TF1 long before it can go super-luminal.”
Wellington realized that he hadn’t thought of that possibility. Task Force 1 was composed of 18 heavy cruisers. The enemy force of 34 ships were all battlecruisers. If they were a Delisani fleet, they might very well go after Task Force 1 and eliminate it as a threat to their home system and then come back around to accomplish their real mission. And if that happened, then he had just sacrificed one quarter of his fleet’s strength for nothing. He felt a shiver of fear go up his spine.
“Can we get within missile range of them before they can fire on Quartermain’s force?” He was looking at the astrogation officer who turned to look at the tactical officer. Wellington turned as well.
The tactical officer looked nervous. Being the TO of a heavy cruiser was one thing, but suddenly being asked to plan and monitor the tactical plans of an entire fleet was something else entirely.
“The tactical situation is complicated, Admiral. The enemy fleet still has a lot of velocity, and if they now accelerate, they’ll gain even more. We, on the other hand, are moving relatively slowly, and therefore our ability to get within missile range is limited to a short window of opportunity. Depending on what vector the enemy fleet finally settles on, I can calculate what that window of opportunity will be. We haven’t detected any signs of them using radar yet, so they probably aren’t aware of this fleet. If and when we fire on them, they’ll detect our missiles’ gravity wakes, but if we time it right, our relative positions and vectors will prevent them from firing on us. Unless we get very lucky with hits from one volley, the most likely outcome of our firing on them will be that enough of their battlecruisers survive to annihilate TF1.”
“Why only from one volley, Lieutenant?” asked Wellington.
“That’s the window of opportunity that I was alluding to, Admiral. If we fire early enough to be able to fire a second volley, they’ll be able to fire back at us. If we wait until their window of opportunity is closed, we’ll only have enough time for one volley. But if we can hit them twice, we might be able to hurt them enough that they won’t want to tangle with TF1.”
Wellington felt his fear grow into a gnawing pain in his stomach. It was obvious what the Lieutenant wanted to do, and Wellington was able to admit to himself that firing on the Shogunate fleet now with two volleys was probably the best chance he was going to get to force that fleet to withdraw. But the prospect of being fired on was terrifying.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Wellington as he turned back around to face the main display. The enemy fleet was still modifying their trajectory. With their remaining velocity, changing directions was a slow process.
“How much time do I have to decide if we’re going to fire twice?” asked Wellington.
“The time remaining is constantly changing as the enemy fleet’s heading changes, but at the moment, it’s three point four minutes, Admiral. May I have your permission to set up a fleet-wide missile volley in preparation for your firing order?”
Wellington very much wanted to say no but knew how that would look. “Yes, go ahead, but hold fire until I order otherwise.” After his order was acknowledged, the resulting silence seemed to Wellington to become deafening. The sidebar was now showing time remaining for a double volley. The countdown times was actually frozen at 3.1 minutes because of the changing vector of the enemy fleet. Wellington knew that as soon as that fleet settled to a steady trajectory, the timer would resume counting down. He was torn between what he knew he should do and what he desperately wanted to do. The display suddenly pinged again.
“That fleet has stopped accelerating again, Admiral,” said the astrogation officer. “My guess is they’ve got the vector they want and…yes, the current vector will get them within missile range of TF1! Acceleration is resuming on the same trajectory now.”
Wellington checked the countdown timer. Not only was it dropping, but it was now dropping fast as the renewed acceleration was changing the relative tactical geometry at an even greater rate.
“Initial missile volley is programmed and ready to launch, Admiral,” said the tactical officer. Wellington wanted to scream at him to shut up. Now less than a minute remained, although the timer would hit zero sooner than that. He literally had seconds to give the command. He closed his eyes and told his fear to shut the fuck up.
“Fire the first volley and fire the second volley as soon as it’s ready,” he said in a voice that was almost hoarse with stress.
“Yes, Sir!” He paused. “All ships have fired, Admiral. Reloading in progress! I recommend we activate L-drives and swing around to close the range ourselves. That will keep our firing window open longer, but their window will stay open longer too, Admiral.”
Wellington spoke before he even realized what he was saying. “No! we continue on EG-drive!” Wellington did not notice the exchange of looks between the tactical and astrogation officers.
“Continue on EG-drive, yes, sir.”
Wellington resisted the impulse to change his mind about continuing as they were. The tactical situation was getting very complicated in his mind. The enemy fleet had been coming at them from straight ahead, but now they had veered off to his left. If his fleet continued on the same vector, the paths of the two forces would form a triangle and the range between them, which was still falling, would at some point start to grow again. His missile volley would be aimed at where the enemy fleet would be by the time the missiles got there, and both the missiles and their targets would be moving more or less in the same general direction. That path would form the third side of the triangle. If the enemy attempted to fire at his main force, their missiles would have to cancel the momentum they would have inherited from the launching ships and claw their way back to wherever they thought the Atlantian fleet would be. By continuing on EG-drive, which the enemy could not detect, the enemy commander would have to guess where to aim his missiles at. Couldn’t the Lieutenant understand that not giving the enemy commander their precise location and vector was an advantage?
He checked the elapsed time since missile launch. The enemy commander would have detected the gravity wakes of Wellington’s 648 missiles by now. The main displayed pinged another status change. They were decelerating again!
“Can anybody tell me why they’re doing that?” he asked.
“I should have anticipated their reaction, Admiral,” said the tactical officer. “By decelerating this quickly, their ships will be too far away for our missiles to reach by the time they pinpoint the enemy’s exact position with their terminal guidance radars.”
Wellington shook his head. His missile volley would end up overshooting far ahead of where the enemy fleet would be, and the Atlantian fleet’s tactical systems couldn’t tell his missiles to change their vector. That capability had been scheduled to be part of the next fleet upgrade.
“What about our second volley? Can they pull the same trick again?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Admiral! Shall I hold fire on the second volley until we know for sure?”
“YES!” shouted Wellington. “Figure out if there’s any way they can evade our second volley and do it FAST!”
“Yessir!”
Wellington had a gnawing feeling in his stomach that he had just fucked up the battle. Two missile volleys might have crippled that enemy fleet, but one volley would not or at least not totall
y. The seconds seemed to fly by. He could tell that the tactical officer was frantically manipulating his station’s console to get the answer. When he stopped and looked up at Wellington, his expression showed his anguish.
“If we fire another volley that’s aimed based on their continued deceleration, we’ll have them boxed in. If they then accelerate or even just stop decelerating, they’ll still end up within terminal guidance correction range of one of our two volleys. The problem, Admiral, is that we can’t fire a second volley unless we first go to maximum L-drive acceleration on a converging vector. We waited too long to be able to fire again on our present vector.”
“And if we do change vectors, will they be able to fire on us?” asked Wellington.
“Yes, Admiral.”
“And going to L-drive will give away our position,” said Wellington, mostly to himself. He knew what he had to do, he just didn’t want to do it.
“Consult with the AO for the optimal new vector and get the fleet moving. Fire the second volley as soon as we have a viable firing solution.”