First Strike

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Tactical analysis suggests that the older ships are operating on minimal crews,” one of the tactical officers said. He was unusually imaginative for a male, channelling the natural competitive instincts of the male mind into his struggles to understand what the humans had created. “They must not have the manpower to crew them properly.”

  Lady Dalsha hadn’t put any faith in what Hegemony Intelligence had been reporting about human development since they’d smashed her squadron at Terra Nova, but even they had to have limits. Training up personnel for their crews took time, perhaps longer than they had had before kicking off the war. Galactic starships might be largely standardized, thanks to the Cats, yet each ship had its differences. The Hegemony had had its own problems when it had been restricted to purchasing starships from other powers.

  “So it would seem,” she agreed. A battlecruiser required upwards of a thousand humanoids to crew it properly. The Cats, for reasons no one understood, had placed limits on the development of automated systems for starships, even though they would have saved manpower considerably. Not that it really mattered. Fifteen superdreadnoughts could crush even the human fleet waiting for them.

  “Incoming ships,” the tactical officer said, suddenly. “I’m picking up… seven freighters, Type-56 medium transports.”

  The human squadron seemed to be racing directly towards them, which was nothing more than suicide. Or so it seemed. The humans had taken out an entire command fortress with a starship crammed with antimatter. Why wouldn't they try to repeat their feat against a fleet of superdreadnoughts? But the freighters didn't seem to mount military-grade shielding. They’d be blown to dust long before they got into ramming position. Unless the humans had invented a way to compress even more antimatter into a freighter…

  “Order the destroyer screen to intercept,” she ordered. Splitting her fleet was yet another tactical innovation, but nine destroyers didn't represent a significant part of her combat power. And if the freighters were loaded with antimatter, sacrificing the destroyers would be an acceptable trade. “And then slow the main body of the fleet. Force them to come to us.”

  The minutes ticked away until the display changed rapidly as the human formation separated into two groups. Thirty gunboats appeared, as if from nowhere, and lanced forwards towards the destroyers, while the freighters they were covering turned and ran back towards Earth, trying to hide from the wrath of her superdreadnoughts. They’d taken the gunboats into battle intending to launch them close to her fleet! The freighters had to be another form of gunboat carrier, just like the one that had hammered Garston and sneaked up to Hegemony Prime. Of course the humans would have more than one design suitable for carrying the accursed little craft.

  But without their carriers, the gunboats would rapidly run out of life support and their pilots would expire.

  “Increase speed,” she ordered. The freighters didn't seem to have military-grade drives either. Her superdreadnoughts could run them down before they reached the shelter of Earth and the Federation Navy. “I want those freighters destroyed the moment we enter range.”

  The gunboats were savaging her destroyers, despite the best efforts of their crews. Destroyers carried plenty of point defence weapons, but their hulls couldn't take a constant bombardment from implosion bolts without being rapidly overwhelmed and destroyed. Her fleet closed into range, firing on the gunboats in the hopes of picking them off, yet the gunboats merely turned and fled back towards Earth. Hegemony Intelligence claimed that one of their best sources on Earth had said that there were over five hundred gunboats assigned to the defence of Earth, but she knew that they were wrong. So many gunboats could have destroyed the entire Hegemony Navy.

  And the range between her and the freighters was dropping rapidly. Soon they would be able to open fire...and then they would see.

  * * *

  “Commodore Yu reports that Operation Squash is underway,” the communications officer said, “but he feels that his squadron cannot get away from the Hegemony ships in time.”

  Sun nodded. He’d known the likely cost of Operation Squash almost as soon as it had been proposed. But trading a handful of freighters for a superdreadnought or two was a net gain by Galactic standards. At least losing Yu’s ships wouldn't decrease his combat power any, nor would the Martyr Brigades donated by Iran. No one had been quite sure if the Iranian Government was sincere about wanting to rejoin the world’s community or merely trying to get rid of a vast number of potential terrorists, but at least their deaths would achieve more than butchering harmless civilians.

  He started to issue orders, and then stopped. There was no point in micromanaging Commodore Yu from the safety of his cruiser. Yu knew what he had to do to escape and no orders from his superior would change that. All they would achieve would be to irritate him.

  The distance between Yu’s squadron and the Hegemony fleet closed with staggering speed. Someone on the other side clearly intended to wipe Yu out before he could make it home, precisely the conclusion the tactical planners had hoped that the enemy would draw. Offering them a chance to destroy Earth’s tiny carrier force was something they couldn't pass up; their very eagerness proved that they’d drawn the wrong conclusion. Gunboats didn't need to be inside the freighters to hitch a ride.

  He settled back in his command chair and waited. It wouldn't be long now before the Funks realised that they’d been conned.

  And if they kept going for another two minutes, they were about to be savaged.

  * * *

  The core difference between males and females from the Hegemony was that males were excitable, emotional creatures while females were cold, calculating and capable of working together with other females to keep the males under control. Or so they were taught at birth, with enough discipline hammered into their scales to make sure that they rarely lost control. No female would lose control unless shocked beyond all recognition.

  Lady Dalsha’s head snapped up as one of the female tactical officers yelped in alarm. “Mines,” she shouted, as new icons flashed into existence on the displays. “Mines ahead!”

  “All stop,” Lady Dalsha ordered, keeping a firm grip on her own emotions. There was no time for panic, whatever the tactical officer thought. “Evasive action!”

  The humans had tricked her, despite all of her careful preparation. Those freighters hadn't been carriers at all, but minelayers. Everyone had known that mining interplanetary space wasn't cost-effect, not when a potential attacker could approach from almost any angle. The mines the humans had used at Hammerfall had floated into a relatively small area of space...

  Here, they’d lured her right onto the minefield. No… they’d laid it right in front of her fleet and she hadn't even noticed. She’d been so captivated by the opportunity to take out the carriers for no loss that she hadn't considered the possibility of a trap.

  The first mine detonated against a cruiser’s shields, exploding with staggering force. Others targeted destroyers or superdreadnoughts, activating tiny one-use drives that sent them hurtling towards their targets before they could escape. The superdreadnoughts opened fire, sweeping the remaining mines from space, yet it wasn't enough. Three superdreadnoughts were badly damaged, including one that wasn't fit to continue the offensive. Just like that, the humans had evened the odds.

  But it wouldn't be enough to save them.

  “Sweep space for further minefields,” she ordered.

  They wouldn't catch her that way twice, she vowed. She was prepared to run the risk of burning out her active sensors in exchange for avoiding any further traps. At least these mines weren't as dangerous as the ones they’d used at Hammerfall.

  “And then resume course,” she added. “Take us to Earth.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Well, we didn't expect that to stop them, did we?”

  The mood in the CIC had darkened as the Funks resumed their course for Earth. A handful of destroyed ships weren't enough to convince the Funks to think
better of their plans, even though at least two superdreadnoughts were badly damaged. They were still in formation, however, which suggested that the damage wasn't that serious. It was difficult to tell at long range, but the techs who had swarmed over the captured superdreadnoughts had reported that they could take a hell of a lot of punishment before being crippled or destroyed. The Cats had designed them very well.

  “This is definitely the Battle of the Line,” one of the sensor operators muttered, just loud enough to be heard. “We’re going to get our asses kicked.”

  “That will do,” Sun said, mildly. “General orders to the fleet; the battle line will prepare to advance against the enemy.”

  The Funks were playing it carefully, very carefully. Their speed had slowed to the point where it would take them upwards of an hour to range in on Earth and – according to the stealth recon drones – they were probing every atom in space with intense suspicion. If Commodore Yu had had the time and supplies to lay more mines, they’d probably have seen them before the mines entered attack range. They’d probably learned a great deal from their attempts to sweep the skies over Hammerfall.

  Sun could feel the tension rising on Pompey’s bridge as the crew braced themselves for the coming onslaught. The Italians had insisted on naming her – they’d contributed enough money to the Federation to pay for one of the cruisers – but there had been a shortage of famous Admirals from Italy that passed through the Navy’s approval process. Eventually, they’d named her after the son of Pompey the Great, the man who had bedevilled Caesar Augustus. The thought of the political strife over the naming of a handful of cruisers never failed to amuse him, and distract him from the coming battle.

  The seconds ticked down relentlessly. “Admiral,” a sensor tech reported, “the enemy fleet is approaching Point Custer.”

  “The battle line will advance,” Sun said. He tapped his console. “Formation Alpha-Three; I say again, Formation Alpha-Three.”

  Pompey shivered as her drives pushed her out of orbit, heading right towards the enemy fleet. The cruisers could easily have outraced the other ships, but Sun had ordered them to keep pace so they could attack in a body. Most of the converted freighters were really little more than missile platforms, or suicide vessels ready to try to ram the enemy ships. The remaining warships were no more advanced than anything belonging to the Hegemony. Buying warships from the Galactics had its disadvantages.

  And the Funks were almost at Point Custer.

  The tactical display updated itself, displaying projected trajectories and the likely point of contact between the two fleets. Each projection varied from time to time, as the Funks altered course slightly or slowed to continue scanning for mines lying in wait for their ships. Sun had to smile, even though he knew that their efforts were wasted. There were no other mines waiting for them to make a mistake.

  And if their timing failed, he’d be committed to close action against an enemy fleet that outgunned him by at least ten to one.

  Sun was one of the very few people on Earth who knew about Bolthole. Admiral Sampson had ordered it done in complete secrecy, choosing not to inform the Federation Council. The Council would have debated endlessly over who should be allowed to go, wasting time the human race needed to prepare its last ditch strategy. A small crew, a few hundred colonists… and a complete genetic bank for humanity had been prepared and launched into space, along with a pair of destroyers for escort. If Earth died today, and the Nine Stars were wiped out soon afterwards, the human race would live on. And with a complete technological base at their disposal, the new colony would develop far faster than anyone would expect. By the time they encountered the Galactics again, they would be more advanced than anyone except – perhaps – the Cats.

  The thought was reassuring, even though he could never have shared it with his crew. Bolthole’s best defence was secrecy...and if that meant leaving the vast majority of people convinced that humanity was about to become extinct, it was a worthwhile price to pay.

  He smiled as the two fleets converged. One way or another, the Battle of Earth was going to go down in the history books. And some of those books would be written by humans.

  * * *

  Lady Dalsha watched calmly as the human fleet slowly deployed in front of her. The humans were good at using their gunboats to destroy the recon probes, but she’d already managed to get a fairly complete picture of their fleet. Apart from the five cruisers, there was nothing in the fleet to concern her – even if they were suicide ships. They’d programmed their datanets to compensate for human tricks; any starship that came within ramming distance would instantly be targeted by every superdreadnought within range.

  “Target the cruisers first,” she ordered. The warships the humans had somehow obtained from the Galactics, using the funds from Garston, wouldn't be a serious problem unless they did manage to ram the superdreadnoughts. They just couldn’t put out enough firepower to deter her fleet from advancing. Besides, she had a surprise of her own up in her claws. “Open fire as soon as they come into range.”

  She felt her mouth drop open in a cold smile of anticipation. “And launch the special missiles as soon as we engage the enemy,” she added. “Your target is Earth.”

  * * *

  “Enemy fleet is targeting us,” a tactical officer said. “Request permission to bring jammers online.”

  “Power them up, but do not activate until they are about to open fire,” Sun ordered. The jammers were supposed to work, according to the experts on Galactic technology, but they’d never been tested outside of simulations. One word of warning leaking out and the technology might become useless very quickly. At least humanity had a slight range advantage. “All ships are to open fire as soon as we come into range. The targets are the superdreadnoughts.”

  The Funk formation was shifting rapidly, showing a well-drilled precision that would have been admirable if they hadn't been enemies. Their smaller craft hung back, while the superdreadnoughts slipped into the lead, ready to turn their awesome firepower on his ships. Someone on the other side had more imagination than he would have liked, he realised; they knew that their smaller ships would get chopped apart by human phase cannon, so they weren't exposing them as doctrine suggested. Instead, the superdreadnoughts would hammer his ships while their smaller comrades covered their flanks and made attack runs difficult.

  Coming to think of it, he thought, they can probably enhance their point defence from those positions. Someone on that side has been thinking about what we can do and how to counter it.

  The seconds ticked down… and then…

  Pompey opened fire. Her consorts followed a second later, bright beams of energy flaring from their hulls and lancing out to strike the Hegemony superdreadnoughts. The beams rotated their modulation rapidly, but to no avail; the Funks had reinforced their shields until they entered firing range of their own weapons. It was clever, Sun admitted to himself, effectively defusing the human range advantage. And their smaller ships could still target the gunboats if they lunged into the attack.

  “Enemy ships are preparing to fire,” the tactical officer said. “Jammers online and ready…”

  “Evasive action,” Sun ordered. They’d simulated the results of the jammers endlessly until they’d worked out most of the possible moves and countermoves available to the combatants once the jammers were deployed. One possible tactic for the Funks was simply firing using the last firing solution they’d worked out before the jammers were activated and praying for a direct hit. “Continue firing!”

  * * *

  “We’ve lost our targeting locks!”

  Lady Dalsha swallowed a curse. Targeting locks were needed to concentrate fire against a target and the humans had somehow disrupted her systems. At least they could fire at where the humans had been, but they wouldn't remain there for long. And with the Hegemony ships opening fire, they were suddenly vulnerable to human fire. The humans had timed their latest surprise perfectly.

  “Ad
just targeting computers,” she ordered, as her superdreadnought lurched. A human beam had sliced into her hull before the shields automatically adjusted to compensate. “Track their weapons and fire back based on the origin of their shots.”

  It was complicated, more complicated than the standard method, but it seemed to work. And only the human cruisers were firing. The rest of their ships seemed to be hanging back, almost as if they were trying to avoid attracting her attention. Or if they wanted her to forget about them while the fiendishly capable human cruisers tore into her fleet. But once she had forgotten about them, they probably intended to ram her ships.

  But they’d underestimated the sheer level of firepower she’d brought to the battle.

  “Battlecruisers are to shift fire to the Galactic ships,” she said. It was unlikely in the extreme that any actual Galactics would be onboard. Even if there were, the Hegemony wouldn't be blamed for their deaths. “Superdreadnoughts and heavy cruisers are to continue targeting the human cruisers.”

  * * *

  “Admiral,” Wallenberg said, “some of these Funk missiles are behaving oddly.”

  Sun tapped his console and zoomed in on the data from the recon drones. Wallenberg was right; the Artificial Stupid in charge of flagging potentially interesting pieces of data had noted it right away. The Funks might have copied all of their technology from the Association, but they’d been good students… and the Association’s technology was a byword for reliability. They shouldn't be burning out mere moments after they were launched from a squadron of heavy cruisers.