by B. V. Larson
I returned to the bridge and took my seat behind Captain Miklos. The crewmen glanced at me now and then, but looked away quickly when I returned the scrutiny. I wondered as we lifted off if they were still thinking about the time I’d taken over their ship and threatened to shoot their captain. To me, that was all water under the bridge. We were all in this together, and we would live or die as a team today.
When the mass of ships had risen up and gathered in a loose formation about a hundred miles above Andros, I ordered the fleet to swing around the planet once to gather momentum, and also to possibly throw off the Macros as to our intent.
“We’ll get up to just over escape velocity,” I told the captains on a joint channel, “then slingshot ourselves toward high orbit. With any luck, we’ll catch them sitting there and have a good combat-pass before they know what hit them.”
The kind of combat I intended would be enhanced by a stationary or slow-moving enemy. Getting in close to the Macros was going to be difficult with their massed firepower and unknown supplies of missiles. Getting in close was a requirement for my attack plan, which consisted of harassing the enemy ships with laser fire while covering the real assault, which would consist of around a thousand marines swarming the cruisers like tiny individual spacecraft. Once in close enough, my marines in their powered battle suits could maneuver to the enemy and hurl nuclear grenades at the hulls. If necessary, they could invade surviving ships and destroy the Macro crews in detail. In my fantasies, some of the enemy craft might even be captured.
Before we’d made half of our initial orbit, however, my hopes were thrown out the window.
“Colonel?” Captain Miklos asked. “I’m getting reports, sir—yes, the enemy fleet is getting underway.”
“Shit,” I said. I slammed my fist down on the command chair. The metal shell of the chair was much thinner than my armored battle suit, and it gave way under the blow. I irritably yanked my fist out of the dent it had formed. Over the next minute or so, the smart metal rebuilt the armrest. Nanites were nothing if not dutiful.
I glared at the forward metallic-relief screens and occasionally eyed the normal computer-driven flat screen in front of my chair. They were definitely moving. They’d not been fooled in the slightest. I had to give these machines credit, they could do their math. They’d projected my likely trajectory. Each ounce of thrust that sped us toward them committed us to a shrinking array of objectives. The faster we went, the more easily they could predict where we were headed. Under no illusions, the Macros had reacted immediately rather than sitting and waiting to see just how we were going to hit them.
“Which way are they going?” I asked.
“Not conclusive yet, sir—but it looks like they are not heading toward us.”
I looked at the helmsman in surprise. “Is that from your math? Let’s see it on the boards. Project the likely enemy path on the screen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Soon I had my answer. The enemy were swinging around the Moon and out of the system. The odds were already eighty percent and ticking higher as they continued accelerating.
I frowned at the screen. “Zoom out,” I said. “Continue the projection to its likely destination.”
This took a few seconds. I squirmed in my command chair, waiting uncomfortably. Visions of an easy surprise victory were fast evaporating. I’d hoped the enemy didn’t understand how dangerous my ships were. The key was my force of ship-storming marines, of course. We’d used similar boarding tactics against four macro cruisers recently, but since none of the enemy had survived, I’d hoped this fleet wouldn’t suspect our intentions.
When the projections solidified I was even more surprised. “Are you kidding me? Why are they flying out there?”
The projected flight path of the enemy fleet didn’t lead toward us. It didn’t lead out toward Venus, either. I’d expected them to follow one of these two routes—either to attack us, or to retreat out of the system. But instead, the enemy was in full flight to the outer system.
“Show me what’s out there,” I said.
“It looks like they are heading for Jupiter,” Captain Miklos said.
I shook my head, eying the path with growing concern. “No. They are heading for the Tyche ring. They are going to head to Alpha Centauri, then maybe Helios. Hell, who knows? They might be planning to knock out the Centaurs once and for all, since they failed against us.”
Captain Miklos brightened considerably. So did the rest of his crew, as the curve of the enemy projected path continued to solidify and possibilities narrowed.
“You’re right, Colonel,” Miklos said. “They are heading for the Oort cloud ring. They are going to run right out of the system. We’ve run them off without a fight.”
“Let’s keep them running,” I said. “Lay in a new course to follow the enemy fleet.”
Captain Miklos looked startled. “Sir, might I suggest—”
“No,” I said.
“But we’ve already achieved our mission. We could return to Earth orbit now, secure in the knowledge they are exiting the system. Perhaps they don’t even know about our secondary minefield out there. Why not let the mines do their work?”
“Fortunately, I’m in command of this expedition,” I said. “Follow them.”
Without further argument, Miklos flew his ship after the Macros. A hundred other vessels glided silently through space after us.
I could tell Miklos was pissed off. I was too, but not at him. I wanted to crush the enemy ships while I had them at a disadvantage. For all I knew, they were moving to meet up with another task force. Together with reinforcements the Macros could easily take out my fleet. They knew that, and so did I. As it was now, the odds didn’t lean very far in my favor.
The worst part of it was not knowing the enemy mindset. Were they running because they were uncertain about their success? Or because we’d become too expensive in terms of materials to defeat? Or did they have some kind of cold trick waiting for me farther out in space? I just didn’t know, and not knowing ate at any commander.
We flew on for hours. Slowly, we were gaining on the enemy. We ran the numbers, and double-checked them. Our smaller ships were faster than their cruisers. We were going to catch them before they could reach the ring and fly through it.
“Maybe we should slow down, sir,” Captain Miklos suggested.
I gave him a disgusted look.
“No, no, sir. I don’t say this out of cowardice. I’m simply suggesting we let the enemy hit the minefield at the Tyche ring at full speed before we get into range to finish off their damaged ships.”
I nodded. “A reasonable suggestion,” I said. “Yes, the more I think about it, the more I like it. Helmsman, ease-off to three-quarters velocity and relay the command to the rest of the fleet. We’ll hang back just a little and hope they don’t know what they’re running into.”
The chase went on for two solid days. When the Macros finally reached the Tyche ring, they did something unexpected. They fired a barrage of missiles.
“Missiles launched!” shouted the weapons officer.
“Count?”
“About twenty, sir. Make that thirty.”
“Scatter the fleet,” I ordered.
“Second barrage sir, pulsed thirty seconds after the first.”
“One mile between ships,” I said. “Globular formation, relay and execute. How long do we have before they hit us?”
“No estimate yet, sir. But at this distance, we’ll have less than half an hour.”
I watched the screens tensely, as did every commander in the fleet. The battle monitors slowly filled with a crowded mass of tiny red contacts. The contacts finally moved a pixel, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise. The two clouds of missiles were not moving toward us.
“They didn’t fire at us?”
“No sir,” the weapons officer replied. “They seem to have fired—at the ring, sir.”
I stared at the screens and frowned. I couldn’t find any fault with the informat
ion I was receiving.
“They know about the mines,” Captain Miklos said. His voice sounded dead and distant. I surmised he’d been hoping for an easy end to this.
“Yes,” I agreed, reviewing the data. The enemy was laying down a blast pattern directly in front of their advancing ships. They intended to destroy the mines we had floating in a tight cluster around the Tyche ring. Either that, or they meant to blow up the ring itself.
In either case, I was less than happy.
“Increase our speed,” I ordered. “Push the engines up to one hundred percent, and tighten up our formation again.”
“Is that wise, sir?”
I looked at Miklos. I wanted to ask him what had happened to the bravado I’d witnessed in him the last time I’d been aboard his vessel. Perhaps that was the answer right there. We’d had some close calls last time I’d flown with him. Maybe he’d had time to think about his mortality and realize how close we’d come to destruction on that occasion. Or perhaps, he’d had a few bad moments serving under Crow when they’d chased down and taken out the dreadnaught. Fleet had lost some good crews that day. In any case, he’d become overly-cautious. It was a common enough problem among my new officers.
“We’re going after them, Captain. Give the damned order.”
He did so without further comment. I thought his face was slightly red over his beard. Perhaps he felt a little embarrassed by his hints that we should slow down. If that was the case, I was glad. The first step toward real bravery was to admit you were afraid of the enemy.
God knew this enemy was worthy of our fears.
-43-
The first barrage exploded just short of the ring, punching a hole in the minefield we had waiting for them in front of the opening. The second barrage charged through that pall of vapor and vanished. Presumably, those missiles exploded on the far side of the ring to destroy the twin minefield we had placed in the Alpha Centauri system. Macro Command had learned a thing or two about our tactics, and responded accordingly.
I now felt sure this was one of the reasons they’d managed their missile supplies so closely. They knew they needed the missiles to destroy our minefields, if nothing else. It was enough to make me grind my teeth in frustration. These Macro ships weren’t dying. They were slipping away, and I knew that the further they got from Earth the greater the temptation would be to let them go, to allow them to leave us and slip away into the vast dark of space. The problem with that was they could return at any time, with fresh ships and fresh ideas on how to defeat us.
“Colonel,” Captain Miklos said. “If we are going to slow down, or change course, we need to do it now.”
I didn’t look at him. I sighed instead. Things were not going as planned.
“Sir?” Miklos prompted. “Any orders? Or are we just going to blast right through after them?”
“I should have maintained my velocity.”
“What?”
“I made a mistake,” I said. I didn’t add by listening to you, but I was thinking it. “I should have caught them before they reached the ring and engaged them. Now, they’ve made it through the ring first. They could be laying mines in front of us on the far side.”
Miklos looked alarmed. He nodded, acknowledging the possibility. “They could be,” he agreed. “Or maybe they will hit the brakes, wait for us to zoom through, and fire every missile they have left into our faces.”
I nodded slowly, but gave no orders.
“Decelerate, Colonel,” Miklos said urgently. “We’ll pull up to the ring and send through a few scouting ships. When we know the situation on the far side, we can fly after them safely—if that is the best course.”
I drummed armored fingers on the command chair. Metal struck metal in a repeating pattern, making a rhythmic, ringing sound. The helmsman turned and frowned at me in irritation. I ignored him. The drumming helped me think.
“No,” I said at last. I stopped drumming, and watched the helmsman relax in visible relief.
“Helmsman, reduce speed by ten percent. Relay that to the fleet. Tighten up the formation more. We’ll fly through in a column.”
“Fly through, sir?” Captain Miklos asked nervously. “I thought we—”
“You thought wrong, Captain. I know the Macros. I know how they think. If they want to ambush us, they’ll do it by firing a barrage in our faces. They’ll do it by timing us, so we can’t get out of the way. Slowing down by ten percent will make us hit the ring several minutes late. Their missiles, if they fire any, will come through the ring to hit us at our last projected speed and course. If we don’t see them show up, there aren’t going to be any.”
Miklos flopped back into his chair in defeat. He relayed the orders without further complaint. Did he think himself a doomed man with a mad commander? It was quite possible he was right on both counts.
“Let me explain myself, Captain,” I said. “I know we are taking a risk, but the enemy can’t be allowed to escape us if at all possible. This force of cruisers knows our tactics. They may well do a great deal of damage to our biotic friends in the Helios and Eden systems. Almost as importantly, we have to press home the advantage we have now. I don’t want to fight these ships again as part of a larger force at a later date. I don’t want them to rearm, form up with another dreadnaught, or even report home. I want to knock them out while they are weak. I want to get the most we can out of this victory.”
“We’ve driven them from our home system,” Captain Miklos said reasonably. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No. It really isn’t. We need more. We need to hurt them, and we must take risks to do so. We are the underdogs in this war, Captain. Don’t ever doubt it. Possibly, the entire affair is hopeless. What if they have thousands of systems and millions of ships? Perhaps we are fleas on a T-Rex.”
“What’s the point then, in that case?”
I shrugged. “We don’t know the truth. But I’m pretty sure they are stronger than we are, far stronger. In order to have a chance, we have to get lucky. You get lucky by going for opportunities when they present themselves. I think the destruction of this enemy task force is just such an opportunity. I’ve read every book I can find on strategy lately—including the writings of many historical figures on the subject, from Caesar, to Napoleon, to Sun Tzu. We must turn this marginal victory into a decisive one. Not only to hurt the enemy’s fleet, but to worry them. The Macros are conservative, and they like to attack with overwhelming force. They might not attack again for years after this beating, convinced we are stronger than we really are.”
“All right sir,” Miklos said thoughtfully. “I understand your reasoning. But at some point we’ll have to give up on killing them all if they keep escaping us. How far from Earth are you willing to go? Once we leave the system, we won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind us. More Macros could come back through the Venus ring and we wouldn’t know we were needed back home.”
“Hmm,” I said, thinking it over. He had a good point. I quickly came up with a partial solution. “How about this? We’ll leave a small ship behind at the ring. Their job will be to dash back and forth through it, every few hours. They can relay messages and scan both systems. If we do that at every ring we pass through, it won’t cost us many ships, and will put us within a few days transmission time from several systems away.”
He nodded appreciatively. “A pony express system?”
“Something like that,” I said, smiling.
“They said you were inventive.”
“They told me you were a hard-ass.”
We both laughed and turned our attention back to the screen. We had just about reached the ring. The time came and passed when the enemy missiles should have showered through, trying to hit us in the face. I had just begun to smile, figuring I had Miklos on this one, when a mass of contacts did appear.
“Evasive action, sir?” the helmsman asked, his voice cracking.
“How many are there?”
“Sixteen, sir.”<
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“Decelerate! Shoot them down!”
My hundred-odd ships all began firing at once. This time, we were playing the part of the Macro vanguard, leading the way at the head of a column of ships into the unknown. Beams slashed out from hundreds of projectors. The missiles popped one after another, but two got through. There were no direct hits, but the explosions buffeted our destroyer when they went off nearby. I could see by the boards we’d lost at least one small ship—and then everything on the screens vanished and reset.
“We’re going through the ring, sir!”
“I feel it.”
I hadn’t even had time to assess fleet damage. We’d have to figure that out on the far side of the ring. As always it sent a thrill through my body like an electric shock to know I was traveling across lightyears of space in an instant. When we came out on the other side of the ring, however, we got the biggest surprise of the voyage.
“Enemy ships sir!” the helmsman all but screamed.
I scanned the screens in irritation. Of course there were enemy ships. What did the young officer think we had been chasing?
But then I saw the panels shift and shimmer. The new system leapt into life. The three stars were there, Alpha, Beta and the distant, dim red dwarf known as Proxima Centauri. None of this was surprising. What did shock me were the number of enemy ships that quickly populated the scene. There were somewhere around two hundred of them, plus clouds of what could only be debris—fragments of destroyed spacecraft.
“What the hell?” I asked no one. My mind leapt to a dozen conclusions, none of them good.
“The Macros must have known they had supporters out here,” Captain Miklos said. “They weren’t running from us, they were luring us into a trap.”
“Trap?” I asked. “There are a lot of blown-up ships here.”
“Maybe our mines took some of them out as they passed through.”
None of it made sense to me. Things looked bad, but I refused to panic.
“Are we under fire?”
“No sir, no reports of incoming fire. Our ships have locked on the nearest alien vessels—they are quite small, sir.”