by Chris Hechtl
The Admiral nodded. “Good. Good luck,” he said.
“We'll need it,” Sprite muttered as the four AI vanished. The Admiral felt them pour through the ship's net and communication's array.
“AI away,” the Admiral said out loud.
<----*----*----*---->
Knowing they were outgunned, Admiral Irons used the AI’s to try to disable as many ships as possible as they used subterfuge to get within firing range.
Each of the AI took a battle group. Proteus took the smaller ships, working rapidly to insert worms into their systems. Defender and Bounty took on the corvettes and destroyers. Sprite saved her efforts for the cruisers.
Her first task was the battlecruiser. Cut the head of the snake off and it was a lot less effective fighting back. She slipped in with the codes they had picked up in the captured ships and then forced the firewall open as she rewrote its core programming, changing its access codes to suit her needs. Then she went to work.
The tempting thing would be to hit her self-destruct or reactor, either blowing her up or scramming her. But the system was heavily modified. There were barely any fleet systems and software remaining in the system at all for her to latch onto. She also couldn't get into the environmental controls either. That was apparently on another system.
Instead she fell back onto her back up plan. She tossed her dragons teeth viruses out, seeding them in various systems and then hit the net with a rapid fire series of rabbit attacks.
Each virus was designed to take the system down and lobotomize it. Once they were triggered all hell would break loose and the enemy would react to her presence.
When she was certain she had done what she could she sent the trigger and then pulled out for another ship.
<----*----*----*---->
“Sir, we're losing fire control,” the tactical officer said, looking up from his station.
“You what?” the flag Captain demanded. “What the hell is going on? Get it back!” He demanded, jowls shaking in anger.
Lieutenant Commander Gerald pounded at his station in frustration and then looked up. “It's no good sir, we've lost coordination. All the weapons mounts are in local control until we can figure it out.”
“Sir, I just tried to call the flag bridge, we lost the link. I tried to call engineering and that link is dead too. We've lost all internal communications,” the OPS officer said. “Main power is acting up too. We've got two plasma breaches.”
“What the hell... of all the times to have a computer glitch!” the exec said, shaking his head. He turned and pointed to a rating at an engineering station. “You, send a runner to the flag bridge advising the Admiral of the situation,” he said. The rating nodded and took off like a jackrabbit.
“Is it a glitch sir?” Ensign Ibex said looking up.
The senior officers turned to him. “Explain,” the Captain growled.
Ibex gulped briefly, paling. He could see the skipper was in a foul mood over this. “Well sir, we received a lot of data from the destroyer. I thought it was an update, but it was encrypted. I shunted it to a buffer. Now I'm wondering if it was an update at all.”
“A virus attack?” the exec said, testing the thought out loud. He rubbed his chin. “Are you sure?”
“No sir, that's the problem. We've had our share of virus issues over the years, just last month if you remember...” the exec waved the Ensign's reminder away. “Anyway, we've lost all external communications as well.”
“We have helm control but it feels... I don't know sluggish,” the helmsman volunteered. “But we don't have long range sensors sir.”
“Lovely,” the exec said. “So we can't even see where we're going?”
“Yes sir.”
“Central fire control sensors are out. The point defense lidar, the entire net. I think, if we can get the nearest mounts to send us their feeds through cables...” an engineering rating said.
“Running cables? Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” the Captain growled. “Get someone on the computers. Reboot them. Shut them down and root them out. Use the roll back on equipment if you have to. For now, cut the central net up into chunks.”
“Aye Captain.”
“We've lost shields. We've got the particle shields and nothing else,” a rating said.
“Damn,” the tactical officer swore. He tried to jack in but then unjacked. He clutched at his head. “What a migraine. Something just kicked me hard.”
“So we can't jack in either. Yes, this is sounding like enemy action,” the exec said.
“Get me a status report. Use hand radios and runners if you have to,” the Captain growled. He turned to the exec, eyes flashing as the lights flickered. A rating gasped in dismay, looking up. “Get me my ship back!”
“Aye aye sir,” the exec replied with a curt nod.
Chapter 23
The tactical officer looked up to the Captain. The Captain was standing next to his station, rubbing his chin. Captain Bluefield was a good Captain, thoughtful. He was a rarity in the fleet, he hadn't been a raider and he had no combat experience. But what he lacked in combat experience he more than made up for in relentlessly drilling his people.
“I don't like it,” the Captain murmured. “CIC identified the ships but why aren't they hailing us?”
“We received a data package Captain. It is the Bounty with escorts.”
“But why are they here?” the Captain persisted. “No, something is wrong. Hathaway wouldn't break his orders and leave his station.”
He turned and paced. He paused when CIC updated the plot. “Is this accurate?” he asked, looking at the updated readings. “Run them again. And someone compare them to what we have on the ships,” he said. He'd skippered an Apollo briefly, he knew the mass readings. These were off by a hundred and fifty tons. “Someone raise the flag. I want to know what's going on,” he ordered.
The communications rating looked up. “Sir, we can't raise the flag.”
“You what?” The Captain demanded, rounding on the hapless rating. “That's impossible! Try again!”
“I did sir. Three times. I can't get anyone sir, our link is out. I thought something was funny,” he frowned and sent a signal through his implants. Slowly his frown deepened. “We're getting the same report in, I think it hasn't been refreshed.”
“Shouldn't it have blanked?”
“No sir, when the system goes down or is out of contact with the fleet it maintains a running plot based on last known course and telemetry sent. It then updates that information through a refresh when we reestablish contact,” the rating explained.
“I know that. I had my salad days Manuel,” the Captain said. “What bothers me is this isn't feeling right.”
“What can we do?” the exec asked. He looked up from his station. “We don't have orders from the flag.”
The tactical officer looked up. “Sir, CIC has confirmed, the readings are accurate. And the mass readings are off on all three ships. CIC is also reporting their drive strength is twenty percent above normal, and Bounty's energy signature has been altered.”
“Altered?”
“She's almost a new ship sir,” guns replied.
“Altered,” the Captain mused. He turned in place for a moment, staring at the image. “I think it's time to run a drill. Battle stations if you please Mister Trevash,” he said mildly.
“Battle stations sir?” the exec asked. They both knew the provisions to limit clock time on the tactical systems. Home logistics still didn't have a good supply of some equipment.
“If I'm wrong I'm wrong,” the Captain said with a shrug. “But I'm going to listen to my gut.”
“Aye sir,” the exec said, hitting the big red button. A klaxon wailed for a moment, then it's sound changed. He looked up in annoyance just as all hell broke loose.
Going to battle stations triggered viruses in the ship which capered through the systems, rewriting or erasing files as they went. “What the hell is going on?” the Captain demanded.
“I don't know!” the exec said. He pounded at the link and then jerked his implant jack out with a gasp. “Damn!”
“What happened?”
“Something kicked me off. The computers are going nuts!”
“Virus attack!” the tactical officer said. “It's in our tactical systems. Origin is communications,” he said, looking at that station.
The communication's rating hunched his shoulders.
“Call the CAG. Get them off. Get all the fighters off. Manually if you have to. Make sure they don't connect to the CIC until we get this sorted out,” the Captain growled.
“Aye sir.”
<----*----*----*---->
“We've done what we can Admiral. The rest is up to you. I didn't get far with the Garth or the Arrow,” Sprite reported when she returned. “The battlecruiser is deaf, dumb, and blind, but I don't know for how long,” she warned.
“Good job,” the Admiral replied. He glanced over to the tactical station.
“Time to point luck, one minute Admiral,” Miss Nobeki stated flatly. “Changes in fire priorities?” Each of the three warships had coordinated their tactical departments to set up a firing pass. They were reliant on passive sensors; they wouldn't go to active until ten seconds before launch.
“No, we'll stick with Gamma. We can't afford to hold any back,” the Admiral replied. Bounty and each of the corvettes had some missile packs strapped to their hulls as their only reserve. Against the Arrow they might be enough, but the battlecruiser was a different story.
“We only have one shot at this,” Sprite murmured. It wasn't like the Admiral to risk it all on a single throw of the dice. He had contingency plans, but they were vague due to the lack of information they had. The Admiral knew the axiom, 'no plan survives contact with the enemy' quite well. The situation would become extremely fluid once the missiles and weapons started flying.
“Thirty seconds. Lassie is opening her cargo doors,” Miss Nobeki reported.
“We're getting good returns,” Mister Enric said. The Admiral looked to him and nodded. Each of the crew were at their assigned battle stations, all were in skin suits. Damage control personnel had their packs within arm's reach at all times. As did the medics with their life saving gear.
One quarter of the crew had a spare air bottle in case someone had a suit breach. He could tell they were excited and nervous.
“Ten seconds to point luck. We are going active with fire control per plan Baker. Bounty has her assigned targets locked up. Romeo reports the same. Echo has her targets locked up.”
“Lassie is deploying her brood Admiral,” Bounty said. The Admiral nodded in response.
“Crossing point Luck,” Miss Nobeki said. “Time to fire ten...” Lassie's altered cargo holds opened and objects tumbled out. Each of the thousands of objects was a six celled capital missile pack.
“One,” Miss Nobeki reached, voice expectant.
“Fire,” the Admiral said as the missile packs cleared the ship and arrayed themselves at least ten meters apart from one another. Before the Horathians could react or recognize the threat, Bounty and the corvettes tactical departments gleefully used the missiles, sending the firing order to send them off in a massive wave.
<----*----*----*---->
Each of the smart missiles was far too large for even Arboth to carry. They were ten-meter long monsters designed to cut across thirty million kilometers of space with time still on their drives. Each had their own bow shield and counter measures on board and could coordinate its attack with other smart missiles through communications telemetry. Normally, so many missiles would be far too much for such small ships to aim and fire. Their fire control would be hopelessly saturated by numbers alone.
However each of these missiles were smart missiles. The equivalent of fire and forget missiles, they took the initial targeting telemetry from their parent ship and then fired. Once they were stable they were on their own.
The engineering crew had pulled out all the stops to build battlecruiser missiles to stuff into each of the packs. Now the equivalent hellfire of two divisions of battlecruiser's full missile capacity roared towards the enemy. Six thousand missiles erupted in their teeth at under a million kilometers, all targeting the three cruisers, two destroyers, frigates, corvettes, and gunships in the outer shell.
Not all the missiles were destined for the outer shell however, one package fired it's missiles low; another two fired them high at different targets.
<----*----*----*---->
The Horathian ships were caught out at the worst possible time for them. Their computers were down, their communications were down and their crew was distracted by the internal crisis. The Garth didn't notice the incoming fire for ten precious seconds, and when Potskin the tactical officer did see it, he demanded a recheck of the computers, insisting vehemently that it was a computer glitch.
Panic and shocked disbelief crashed over the Horathian crews. Their tactical departments rushed to do their best as the rest of the crew frantically tried to suit up and restore their ship to fighting trim. Their best wasn't good enough.
Captain Bluefield barked orders but nothing got through to the other ships. Some of the ships targeted maneuvered, or at least attempted to do so with half their systems down. Mutual defense was abandoned as fleet discipline broke down. Lasers and counter missiles erupted into the void, sometimes getting interposed by fire from other ships.
The North Hampton light cruiser got her shield up a minute before the missiles reached final acquisition range but that posed another problem, it blocked her own desperate defenses. Lasers dug impotently into the inside of her shields, weakening them and overloading the force emitters. Two counter missiles exploded inside the shield, blowing debris back at the ship, shredding her starboard sensors, blinding her. With the computer network down the ship couldn't coordinate its defenses with the shields to open windows for them to fire through.
Thousands of Horathians hoped it was a drill or a nightmare. But the nightmare for them was just beginning.
<----*----*----*---->
“Admiral, you aren't trying to take them alive are you this time?” Sprite asked Irons alone. This wasn't like him; he had been so focused on capturing ships earlier. She could sense his grim determination.
“No,” Irons said simply, cold eyes studying the tactical plot. “We're going to blow the hell out of them,” he growled. “Lower the hammer people. Time to show them how to fight.”
Bounty wasn't fighting to wound, she was fighting to kill. To maim, render, and kill in a destructive orgy of death. Vastly outnumbered she didn't bother trying to capture ships. Nuclear explosions thundered silently in the void as they hammered ships into spreading balls of gas and debris.
<----*----*----*---->
“Someone tell me what the hell's going on!” Admiral Rico demanded. He wanted to go down to the bridge and kill the entire bridge crew for letting this happen but he couldn't. At least not now. He needed them.
They were getting intermittent radio reports from the weapon mounts that had their own lidar or radar. The latest report had him practically foaming at the mouth.
Somehow, and he wasn't certain how, the Arboth had launched thousands of missiles at his fleet. Many of his ships were wreckage. More than half if the reports could be believed. And here he was, in the most powerful ship in the system, completely helpless to do anything about it!
“Sir, main engineering has reported they have the drive and power systems under local control. They've got the shields back up.”
“Good. At least we have some defense,” the Admiral growled. “Now someone get me something to see with!”
<----*----*----*---->
The tidal wave of missiles crashed through the last desperate defenses one hundred thousand kilometers out and then began to deploy. Force emitters in a third of the missiles bored holes through shields and then focused warheads detonated. Nuclear warheads breached the ship's armor and tore ships apart.
Ships that lacked shields had warheads impact directly on the hull with devastating results.
Some of the enemy ships were destroyed, caught off guard or simply overwhelmed by the heavy fire. None had been designed to handle such weapons fire. Admiral Irons wasn't interested in capturing them; he didn't have the crew and couldn't afford to do so with the odds so out of his favor. He couldn't afford to let a wounded enemy possibly recover and come after his people. The two light cruisers were the primary targets of half of the smart missiles. They were obliterated in nuclear fury.
The two lead destroyers, the Garth class light cruiser, the North Hampton class light cruiser, two corvettes, a frigate, and ten gunships were engulfed in the missile swarm. When the eye tearing explosions cleared only a piece of one of the Garth's nacelles and the torn aft of the North Hampton was left to tumble wildly away into the void. The smaller ships were gone, turned into spreading balls of plasma and tiny bits of ash. The rest of the larger ships were expanding balls of debris. Most of it no larger than a centimeter.
“The Arrow is launching Admiral. It just got ugly for the Cobras,” Bounty informed him.
“Can't help it. They'll have to make due,” the Admiral said quietly. He had anticipated getting the battlecruiser in his net. That hadn't happened. Now things were going to get a whole lot more dangerous.
Ships that were disabled by the AI's cyber attack like one of the two remaining destroyers he didn't destroy once he was certain it was no longer a threat. But as Bounty or one of the corvettes passed within range of a disabled foe shots were fired, slamming into the supine foe, precision fire taking out or disabling her sublight drive and sensors. They would be adrift, helpless even if they did somehow get their computers back in order.
“Admiral, the screen covering the jump point has abandoned its post and is moving out. They will be passing the Queen Adrienne in four minutes. They will be on us in eleven minutes,” Bounty warned him.