Anderson’s Q-probes had died before they could bring their defense routines up, and without the probes in place, Avalon was now seeing everything as it was twenty-six minutes ago. They had no idea what Triumphant was doing in response to discovering their watchers.
“Can we say when they’ll detect us?” Kyle demanded.
“No idea, sir,” Anderson admitted. “They’ll probably guess we’re doing exactly what we’re doing, and we are throwing off a lot of energy. If they take a close look, we’ll be pretty obvious, sir. I’d guess they know by now.”
“Understood,” Kyle acknowledged. Well, he’d known the stealth trick wasn’t going to work forever. Avalon was still almost half a billion kilometers from the depot – five and a half hours of careful deceleration for a zero-zero intercept.
“Stanford, Norup,” he barked, opening channels to the two men. “Launch now. Don’t worry about stealth – they know we’re here.
“It looks like most of the defenses are down, but, Stanford, make sure Norup is covered all the way in. Those starfighters may still want to play.”
“Rokos and his Wing are on the depot,” the CAG replied. “I’ll send Nguyen and Epsilon to back him up with those starfighters. The rest of us are going after the battleship.”
“We’re firing new probes now,” Kyle told Stanford, with a commanding glance over at Anderson, “we’ll relay data as we have it, but they won’t be very far ahead of you for a while.”
“I know the rodeo, Captain,” Stanford replied. “We’ll bring the bastard down.”
“Good luck, CAG,” Kyle said softly. “Seems we’ll need more than I hoped!”
10:45 January 14, 2736 ESMDT
SFG-001 Actual – Falcon-C type command starfighter
It was good to be back in space. There was little Michael found more frustrating than sitting on the carrier, watching other people make the decisions that would decide whether or not he and his people lived and died.
With all of his starfighters out and moving, however, he had a lot more control over how things would end.
“All right people,” he told his flight crews. “Everybody but Bravo and Epsilon, set your course for Triumphant. Rokos, Nguyen – the Marines are in your tender hands. Try to get them to target in one piece?”
“I make no guarantees,” Rokos intoned ominously. “Though I’ll note that Major Norup owes me a beer.”
“Then you’ll want to be sure I survive to make good,” the Marine commander replied. “We’ll be fine, CAG. Go get Triumphant.”
“Good luck, Major.”
“I’m not the one charging a battleship in a tin can,” Norup pointed out.
Michael really had no response to that, so he let the channel drop as the two groups of small craft separated. ‘Tin can’ was a more accurate description of his starfighter than he figured the Marine commander knew – tiny as the thirty-meter wedges of his ships were by the standard of modern spacecraft, they still massed about as much as the old wet navy destroyers that had first carried the nickname.
Depending on how Triumphant reacted, this could be a very short flight or long one. If the battleship set her course to engage Avalon, they’d be engaging in an hour and a half at almost a third of lightspeed. If the battleship ran, they’d bring her down in about three.
It would be ten minutes before they knew for sure, though the time delay would drop as they closed – and perhaps more importantly, as the Q-Com-equipped probes fired ahead of them at a thousand gravities closed.
And… there were the Q-probes dying. What he was seeing on his scanners was still twenty-five minutes old, but it was now more recent than the last data from the dead probes. Triumphant continued on her course for a few minutes, though Michael winced as he saw the power readings from the scans she was sweeping space with.
Even at twenty-five light minutes, that was going to get a readable return off of Avalon. One way or another, the rogue battleship would know she was being hunted by the time the signal got back.
“What are they doing?” Kayla Arnolds, his gunner asked softly. “Are they… spinning?”
He was right, Michael realized as he reviewed the footage. Triumphant had ceased to accelerate, turned so her longest side was facing Avalon, and begun slowly rotating.
“They’re launching,” the CAG said simply. “Find me the missiles, Kayla.”
His command starfighter traded the third missile in each of its magazines for dramatically increased computer support. Linked into the systems via his implant, he almost felt the repeated reviews of the data with various levels of enhancement and different tools. The whole process took seconds.
There were almost certainly twenty-four missiles – a full salvo from the battleship – but they could only confirm fourteen of them. Four of those they only had vague locations on, and as Michael watched the computer downgraded one of them to ‘probable’ from ‘likely’.
Then it blipped up six new missiles as the battleship rotated again – a reload cycle complete on all of her launchers.
“Keep an eye on those birds,” he ordered. “I need an estimate of how many.”
“They’ll have to go live, won’t they?” Arnolds asked. “We’ll see them then.”
“I dislike surprises, Lieutenant,” Michael observed. “Keep them labeled on the feed, watch their course.”
More missiles popped up. Not nearly enough for them to be detecting all of them, but as the minutes passed, Michael was detecting dozens of definite and probable missiles – none of which had fired their engines, and none of which were on a direct course for Avalon.
“What are they doing?” he asked aloud.
As if the universe was listening, the missiles finally activated their drives. His starfighter’s computers dispassionately analyzed their numbers and course and gave him the most likely answer to his question.
Four full salvos, ninety-six missiles, activated their drives in a sequence carefully calculated to turn them into a single massive salvo. Their course arced away from Avalon, but his computers happily told him that they would almost certainly turn back, go ballistic, and make a final approach on the carrier from a direction his fighters could not intercept.
“Oh Starless Void,” he cursed as he grasped the dilemma that Captain Richardson had left him with. If he pursued Triumphant, he could bring the battleship to bay long before they escaped into Alcubierre – but Avalon would have at best a fifty percent chance of stopping that many missiles.
He ran the vectors to be sure and sighed. Triumphant’s commander had chosen his attack arc with care and skill – there was no line on which his fighters could catch the missiles and still have a chance of bringing the battleship to bay.
With two Wings detached to assault the depot, he only had three Wings – one hundred and forty-four fighters – left. He could, maybe, take Triumphant with one Wing, or stop the missiles with only one Wing… but to be certain of either…
“All fighters,” he opened a channel to the ships in his attack force. “New course downloading, setup for missile intercept.”
They could always catch Triumphant later – but if they lost Avalon, none of them got to go home.
11:30 January 14, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-78 Avalon, Flag Deck
Dimitri listened to the Vice Commodore’s decision with disbelief. He understood the CAG’s dilemma, but their mission was to catch Triumphant. He had to catch Triumphant.
“Captain Roberts,” he snapped. “That salvo will go ballistic before it reaches us. How much danger are we seriously in?”
“Sir, they have enough ECM in play that we can’t localize their vectors before they go ballistic,” Roberts told him grimly. “With a fighter intercept, we’re in no danger – without one, we’ll localize the missiles when they bring their drives back up for terminal maneuvers. We’d have less than a minute to intercept the missiles.
“With that many birds, we’re looking at a fifty percent chance of losing Avalon.”
&nbs
p; “If he goes after the missiles, we’ll fail in our mission to catch Triumphant,” Dimitri snarled at the other man.
“We will catch Triumphant,” Roberts replied calmly. “Not today, perhaps, but we have a strategic speed advantage, and we have enough probes scattered around this system now that we’ll know their destination when they jump.
“Given those conditions, the preservation of this ship takes tactical priority over catching Triumphant today,” the Captain said flatly. “Ending our pursuit of Triumphant in mutual destruction has no purpose, Admiral.”
Roberts, Dimitri reflected, wasn’t thinking about their time limit. The Alliance might well pull Avalon back – or order them to hold Alizon! – if they didn’t catch Triumphant today. If they could still pursue Triumphant, though, the Captain wasn’t wrong.
“Damn it, Captain, you’re supposed to be the aggressive wonderboy,” he snapped anyway. “You’re the last man I expected to be a coward in the face of the enemy!”
“Aggression is about risk, sir,” Roberts replied flatly. “It’s about odds and probabilities, and knowing we can catch them later makes me perfectly willing to give up a ninety percent chance of catching Triumphant today to avoid a fifty percent of losing Avalon.
“I have no intention of dying for revenge today when we can live and have it tomorrow.”
13:00 January 14, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
The entire concept behind a missile strike with a ballistic phase was to use ECM and decoys to render the exact location of the missiles unpredictable. That way, they were almost impossible to destroy before they hit terminal range and brought their drives back up for their final attack runs.
Like most tactics, there was a counter-measure. In this case, using starfighters to intercept the missiles in their ballistic phase. While you couldn’t locate the missiles accurately enough to shoot them down, you could bring starfighters in close enough that they could locate the missiles.
Kyle watched impassively as Stanford’s fighters ripped through the missile swarm. The Stormwinds re-activated their ECM too late – a clear sign that the humans responsible for them weren’t expecting them to survive at this point. A good missile jockey would have followed the starfighters’ path and sent the lightspeed command to bring up the ECM early well before the attackers arrived.
“I show ninety-one missile kills, Captain,” Stanford reported. “Can you confirm?”
Kyle glanced over at Anderson who flashed a thumbs up.
“We have the same, CAG,” he told Stanford. “I’m pretty sure we can deal with five missiles.”
“Want me to take off after Triumphant?”
Avalon’s Captain looked at the geometry to sighed.
“There’s no point,” he admitted. “Your velocity is all wrong at this point, you wouldn’t even get close before they jump. Reinforce the depot strike,” he ordered. “Let’s make sure the Marines get in.”
“Tally-ho, Captain.”
Kyle focused his attention on the depot. They had a new Q-probe in the area, so he had real-time data on the defenders again. Those sixty starfighters continued to orbit, which surprised him. They might be outnumbered, but he refused to fault the Commonwealth Navy’s will to fight.
“Sir, Wing Commander Rokos is on a channel for you.”
“Link him in,” he ordered.
“Captain, I’m receiving a lightspeed transmission from the depot,” the Wing Commander told him. “They’re requesting to speak with our CO, so I’m relaying to you.
“We are one hour from turkey shoot time,” he noted. “Activating relay.”
An image of a pale-skinned man with slightly pink eyes and pure white hair resolved itself on Kyle’s implants. A small icon on the screen noted it was a recorded message, transmitted a little over five minutes beforehand – Rokos’ fighters were still over five light minutes from their target.
“I am Captain John Paris of the Commonwealth Navy,” the albino said calmly. “My people have completed their scans of their starfighters and confirmed what I presumed from the beginning.
“While the officers and men and women under my command are brave, their morale has been shattered by betrayal, and I am willing to admit when we face a superior foe. To avoid further loss of life on this already bloody day, I offer the unconditional surrender of the Alizon Logistics Depot, the shattered remnants of its defenses, and all forces on the surface of Alizon.”
Paris sighed and bowed his head for a long moment before looking back up at the camera.
“I await the response of the Alliance High Commander,” he said quietly.
Kyle checked that Tobin had received the message – for some strange reason, he didn’t have an active link to the Vice Admiral right now – and then opened a link.
“Admiral.”
“Captain.”
From his frosty tone, Tobin hadn’t quite forgotten their earlier argument.
“The depot has offered their surrender,” Kyle said calmly. “How we proceed from here… is a strategic decision, sir.”
Frost or not, that got a quirk that might have been the beginnings of a smile from the old Admiral.
“Then I shall speak to this Captain Paris. Stay on the channel, Captain.”
Kyle watched as Tobin’s people quickly and efficiently setup for the recording, and then the Admiral turned to face the camera, his most intimidating dark scowl settling onto his face.
“Captain Paris, I am Vice Admiral Tobin of the Castle Federation Space Navy,” he rumbled. “Your surrender is accepted. My Marines will arrive in just under eighty minutes from your receipt of this message. Understand that any resistance to their arrival or their boarding will be met with maximum force.
“Enough blood has been shed this day,” the big Vice Admiral told the Commonwealth base commander. “Your wisdom in avoiding further loss is noted. Once my Marines are aboard, you will be escorted to Avalon where my Captain and I will accept your surrender in person.
“Vice Admiral Tobin, out.”
32
Alizon System
16:00 January 14, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
After almost sixteen hours on the bridge, Kyle couldn’t sit in his command chair anymore. His immobilized shoulder hurt, but it hurt somewhat less if he was standing, so he stood behind his chair with his hands carefully clasped across his torso.
He watched as Maria Pendez slowly and carefully brought Avalon to a halt, roughly five thousand kilometers from the Commonwealth logistics depot. Eight starfighters – Epsilon Wing’s Third Squadron – made their approach from the depot, angling to land as the carrier continued to retrieve her starfighters.
“Get me Major Norup,” he ordered. The Marines had been on station barely two hours – there was no way they had secured the entire facility yet.
It took a few minutes, but eventually the sallow face of the Marine commander appeared on Kyle’s implant feeds.
“Captain Roberts,” he greeted Kyle. “We’re a little busy down here, so I hope this can be quick.”
“It should be,” Kyle promised. “I need an update on the status of the depot. How long until it’s fully secured?”
“Captain Paris’ people are being co-operative,” Norup noted, “but we are talking almost twenty-five thousand military personnel across eight major and twenty-six minor platforms, plus the repair dock.”
“I’m not asking for miracles, Major, just a timeline.”
Norup shook his head.
“Between twelve and thirty-six hours is the best estimate I can give you, sir,” he said. “I can guarantee we’ll have the command facilities, any remaining defensive weapons, and the dock secured in a maximum of twelve hours.”
“All right, Major,” Kyle allowed. “I’m not going to argue with the professionals. We should be able to expect to take Captain Paris’ surrender aboard Avalon by, say, oh eight hundred tomorrow morning?”
That gave th
e Marines sixteen hours to complete securing all of the systems necessary to control the Commonwealth base. It also meant they could complete the ceremony, return Paris and Norup’s Marines to the base, and be on their way out of the system after Triumphant within twenty-four hours.
“We will also need to co-opt at least one platoon to coordinate with local forces on the surface,” Kyle told the Major. “Details are shaky, but we have some communication with the remnants of the Alizon Guard. Commonwealth forces on the surface are being good so far, but we’ll need to mobilize the locals if we’re to detain and secure a fifty thousand strong occupation garrison.”
From the slightly ill expression on Norup’s face, the Marine battalion commander had been focused on securing the depot. While he probably hadn’t forgotten about the five divisions of the Terran Commonwealth Army on the surface of Alizon, they hadn’t been his priority.
“The Guard would be… very helpful with that,” he agreed. “If we can coordinate with them and trust them to avoid retaliatory atrocities.”
“Commonwealth Army occupation garrisons are usually very strictly disciplined,” Kyle reminded him. “So far, they’re sounding more ‘get them off our planet’ than ‘kill them all,’ but I want Marines on hand. Just in case.”
“I’ll see to it, Captain,” Norup promised. “Anything else?”
“No. I suspect I’m going to have a doctor ordering me to sleep shortly,” the Captain advised wryly, “but don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything from us. Commander Solace will be able to assist you if I’m out of communication.”
“Thank you, sir,” Norup said crisply. “We’ll be in touch, sir.”
The channel cut off. Kyle turned to Commander Anderson.
Avalon Trilogy: Castle Federation Books 1-3: Includes Space Carrier Avalon, Stellar Fox, and Battle Group Avalon Page 55