by Dietmar Wehr
“That was perfect, Mrs. Strider,” said Terrington with a grin. He turned to Strider, who was still holding his son up. “She’s officially yours now, Richard. I hope you enjoyed your leave because you’re going to be damn busy starting now. I think we should head down. The ground crew want to pull the gantry away as soon as possible.”
Troy protested being put back down. Things looked so much different when he was up high. He couldn’t wait to grow up and wear an AF uniform. He asked his father lots of questions on the way home. A few of the answers he wasn’t sure he understood, but someday he would. Wait ‘til his friends at school heard about this!
Chapter Twenty-four
Strider met his new team the next day. The XO, Serge Pavlov, was an old friend from his A-15 squadron days who had followed him to the Space Defense Division. Strider was acquainted with all the rest of the officers too, some just from having met them at one time or another, but others he knew quite well. The biggest part of the technical crew, though, were new to him. They spent most of the day crawling all over the interior of the ship and then gathered at the base of the boarding ramp for a final pep talk before splitting up and heading home.
“We did well today,” said Strider. “I think I’ll ask General Terrington’s permission to skip another day of ground prep and take her up for a few orbits tomorrow.” That generated a round of enthusiastic cheers. “So, let’s all get a good night’s sleep and—” He stopped when the Base’s space attack siren sounded.
“EVERYBODY INTO THE SHIP NOW!” he yelled.
“Maybe it’s a drill!” called Pavlov as they ran up the ramp.
“I don’t think so!” shouted Strider. “How many missiles does she have aboard?”
“Six!” said Pavlov as they crowded into the elevator.
Strider groaned. It wasn’t even enough for one shot from each of the 12 missile tubes. Fearless II wasn’t scheduled to receive a full load for another three days.
“Hurry up and get in!” shouted Pavlov as the rest of the crew tried to squeeze in so that the elevator car could take them all up to the Command Deck. After what seemed like too many minutes but had to have been only seconds, everyone was in and the elevator started to rise, fast. Since Strider and Pavlov were the first ones in, they were the last ones out, and they ran to the Control Room. Once inside, Strider hurried over to the Communications Station where the com tech was getting settled.
“Headset and Base control frequency,” said Strider. The technician handed him one and manipulated his console. Strider put it on and heard the Base calling the ship.
“—to Fearless II! Base to Fearless II! Do you copy?”
“We do now, Base! What’s the situation?”
“Long-range radar has picked up three, I repeat, three bogeys crossing the no-jump zone boundary at high speed! Estimated time to reach orbit is thirteen minutes. Nemesis is holding position until you can join her. You have to get that ship into orbit fast, Major!”
“Understood!” Strider turned to look at Pavlov who was standing beside the Engineering Station. “XO, forget the pre-flight checklist. We don’t have time for that. We’re going to do an emergency cold start. I want full power asap!”
“Emergency cold start! Yessir!” Strider stepped over to the Command Station and began strapping himself in to his chair. If the inertial dampeners still needed some fine tuning, being held down by the harness would be a good thing.
“We’ll have full power in fifteen seconds, Major!” said Pavlov.
“Give me ship-wide inter-craft,” said Strider.
“Go, sir,” said the com tech.
“This is the Major. We’ll be lifting off in less than ten seconds. Make sure you’re strapped in. It may not be a smooth ride. Strider out.”
“Five seconds!” said Pavlov.
“Base! We’re lifting off now!” yelled Strider as the power levels on his station’s console reached their maximum. He touched the electronic button to activate the ship’s contra-gravity thrusters, and Fearless II leaped upwards at almost 8Gs acceleration. The dampeners were trying to compensate but were oscillating back and forth between not enough and too much. The resulting jerky motion threatened to cause his stomach to heave. He firmly told it to settle down. No way was he going to throw up during an emergency sortie!
“Mach 1,” said Pavlov. “Mach 2…Mach 3. Hull temperature is starting to rise. Recommend we throttle back until we reach space, Major.”
“Okay. Helm. Reduce acceleration by enough that air friction is minimized.”
“Yes, sir.”
The reduction in acceleration had the added benefit of allowing the dampeners to stop oscillating. Strider was sure that he wasn’t the only one letting a sigh of relief pass his lips.
“Base, Fearless II. Give me an update on the bogeys.”
“We can do better than that, Major. We’ve computed their trajectory, and you should be receiving it now.”
“Thank you, base. Let’s see the data, TO,”
“Just one minute, Major. I’m still trying to access the data,” said the Tactical Officer in a tone that did not convey confidence that he knew what he was doing.
“XO.” Pavlov turned to look at Strider. “Take over Tactical. Lieutenant Manheim, you take the XO’s place at Engineering.”
Pavlov had the transmitted data on the main display within seconds. Manheim clearly looked like he knew he had just screwed up badly. Strider decided that stroking his ego would have to wait until later. He turned his attention to the display. Three red triangles were moving side by side, with the projected trajectory curving towards the planet. Sidebar data said they were accelerating with less than three minutes to go before they had to begin decelerating if they didn’t want to fly right past the planet. A green triangle was holding position above the planet. That was Nemesis.
“I want to see the planet’s shadow, XO,” said Strider. It appeared seconds later. An experienced crew would know how to keep Fearless II’s orientation from reflecting sunlight back to the enemy, but Strider wasn’t sure if his team knew how to do that yet, and he didn’t want to risk tipping the enemy off to Fearless II’s position. Therefore, he would try to keep the ship within the planet’s shadow as much as possible.
“Rotate slowly,” he said. The image rotated to give him a better idea of the three-dimensional aspects of the situation. The bogeys were coming in from above the planet’s orbital plain. Not only were they coming in, but they were also coming down. Their current trajectory did not bring them close to the planet’s shadow, and that worried Strider. There was one thing he could try that might work to correct that.
“I want to talk to Nemesis.”
“Nemesis on Tac three, Major,” said the com tech seconds later.
“Montoya, this is Strider.”
“Reading you loud and clear, Major. Glad you could join the party. We were beginning to feel lonely out here.”
“We’ll be clear of the atmosphere in another…two point five minutes. I want to try to maneuver the bogeys closer to the planet’s shadow to make sure Fearless II stays undetected. Here’s what I want you to do…”
Wolfgar snarled with satisfaction. Radar and optical sensors had still detected only one ship. He was certain that it wasn’t the freighter that had gotten away. It had to be a warship, and that was fine with him. Raiding a planet was fun for the ground troops but did nothing for him as the ship’s Captain. Engaging in a space battle would be a lot more interesting for him. One defending ship against his Wolfhound, the raider Banshee and the Valhallan cruiser Destiny would be a quick battle, but still satisfying in its own way. No doubt the New Caledonians were expecting him to come with just his own ship, but one-on-one odds were too unpredictable. Banshee had arrived at Olympus just in time to join his quest for payback, and the relatively quick detour to Valhalla had proven to be a brilliant strategy thanks to Sanderval’s revelation of everything he had learned about Strider, New Caledon and Haven after just five minutes of tortu
re. Valhalla’s Supreme Idiot of a leader was only too happy to send his one and only operational warship to join the strike force. As soon as Wolfgar was done with New Caledon, he would give Banshee the coded signal to turn their attention on the Destiny. With her destroyed, Valhalla would be wide open for pillaging too.
“That ship is leaving orbit, Captain,” said the weapons officer.
Wolfgar looked more closely at the main screen and frowned. Was that ship running away? It was, and it wasn’t. It was heading towards them on one axis, but instead of climbing above the ecliptic to meet his fleet head on, it was dropping below the ecliptic! It was almost as if its Captain couldn’t make up his mind whether to fight or run away. If he kept that trajectory, that ship might be able to remain out of effective missile range of Wolfhound, and Wolfgar was not willing to miss that battle.
“Notify the other ships that we’re changing course. I want that ship brought within missile range.”
“They’ve taken the bait,” said Montoya.
“I see it,” replied Strider. The three bogeys were now moving at a steeper angle to the ecliptic. Instead of heading for the planet, they now appeared to be diving on Nemesis, and since that ship was moving closer to the planet’s shadow, so were the three bogeys. A quick check of his console showed him that Fearless II was just about to emerge from the planet’s atmosphere. And although the sun was setting, it wasn’t setting fast enough to give his ship the added protection of darkness. There was still the slight chance that one of the flat surfaces would be at just the right angle to reflect sunlight up to the bogeys, and they might be looking for exactly that kind of reflection.
“Helm, watch our orientation to the enemy, and get us into the umbra asap,” said Strider. The Helm Officer acknowledged the order, and Fearless II tilted over to one side. The instruments said that the sunlight was being reflected away from the bogeys, and when the ship entered the shadow, Strider breathed a sigh of relief.
Wolfgar was focusing on the display when he heard the weapon’s officer’s voice. “Upper atmospheric reflection, Captain. It was only there for a second and is now gone. It could be another ship.”
Wolfgar was annoyed by the report. “If it was a ship, it wouldn’t have disappeared after one second, you dolt! Don’t bother me with these trivial details!”
Strider was holding his breath. The enemy’s trajectory would bring them within 55,000 miles of the edge of the planet’s shadow, and at that point Fearless II would be 89,000 miles away. Effective missile range was 61,800 miles, but since both parties would be more or less moving towards the other, if Fearless II fired missiles at that point, the enemy ships would have travelled close enough to be hit by the time the missiles reached the end of their ability to maneuver. The geometry also would allow Fearless II to fire again after seeing the results of the first barrage. With only six missiles and three targets, Strider wanted to hold half the missiles back for the second barrage in order to concentrate on whichever ship or ships seemed to have the least damage. It would then be up to Nemesis to finish off the cripples. At least that was the plan.
“DAMMIT!” yelled Wolfgar. That New Caledonian ship had changed trajectory again to avoid being brought into missile range.
“We’ve begun deceleration now, Captain,” said the maneuvering officer.
“NO! We’re not letting that ship get away! I want an intercept course at maximum acceleration! Notify the other ships and execute!”
Strider heard the status change ping from the display and checked the sidebar data. The bogeys had adjusted their trajectory and shifted back to acceleration. That was not good. They were effectively cutting inside their previous course to force Nemesis into missile range.
“Montoya! They’ve messed up my firing solution with this latest maneuver. I want you to head directly for the umbra now. That should pull them over towards me again.”
“Understood, Major, but it looks to me like I’ll be within their missile range before they’re within yours.”
“If you’re within theirs, then they’ll be within yours too. Sooner, in fact, since they’ve got more velocity than Nemesis has. Why not use that to your advantage.”
“Hell, yes. Why not? Any recommendations regarding targeting?” Strider looked back at the display and used his console to zoom in the scale. One of the three bogeys was ahead of the other two. Strider was willing to bet that it was Wolfhound.
“Let’s concentrate on the lead ship. I suspect it’s their flagship. Maybe your fire will rattle him.”
“Lead ship it is,” said Montoya. “We’ll be able to fire soon.”
“Good hunting,” said Strider.
Wolfgar drummed his fingers impatiently on the right armrest of his chair. With their initial velocity and the added momentum from their acceleration, his three ships were rapidly overtaking the New Caledonian ship. He had taken note of the fact that their ship seemed to have exactly the same acceleration rate as the typical raider ship. An interesting, if trivial, piece of data. In any case, his ships would be able to fire in another five minutes in spite of the stupid maneuver that New Caledonian Captain was making to try to hide in the planet’s shadow. Even if Wolfgar’s ships couldn’t see him visually, they could still track him with radar. Did the New Caledonians not understand that?
“He’s opened fire, Captain!” said the weapons officer.
“Make sure our point-defense cannons are on line and tracking!” demanded Wolfgar in a threatening tone. Maybe that other Captain wasn’t so incompetent after all. He certainly seemed to understand the nuances of a stern chase which is basically what was happening now. The attacking force was flying towards the oncoming missiles while the ship being chased would be flying away from any missiles fired at it.
Strider nodded with satisfaction at the first tiny green triangle with the number 8 inside. Nemesis’ reload time was 45 seconds. It could in theory fire its full load of 48 missiles in 3 minutes 45 seconds, but he knew that Montoya would not shoot himself dry that quickly. Nemesis had to hold some missiles back in order to finish the battle after Fearless II’s surprise attack. Since Nemesis had anti-missile point defenses, it was prudent to assume that Wolfhound did too, and the only way to be sure to get past those defenses was to overwhelm them with lots of incoming missiles. Strider watched the elapsed time since Nemesis’ first barrage. When 45 seconds had elapsed, a second tiny green triangle appeared, and it soon became obvious that the second barrage was travelling faster than the first one.
“Good boy,” muttered Strider in a voice low enough that Montoya wouldn’t hear him. Both barrages would arrive at their target at the same time but travelling at different speeds, and that would complicate the point-defense cannons’ calculations as to which missile to fire on first, second, etc. Strider estimated that Wolfgar’s ships would be able to fire one volley before the incoming missiles arrived. Before that happened, Nemesis would be able to fire two more times, and this time, Strider’s ship would be able to fire its first barrage so that all 19 missiles arrived at the same time.
Wolfgar made a point of snarling his defiance for the benefit of his crew, but he was beginning to be worried about his ship and his own personal safety. Staggering two missile volleys so that all the missiles arrived at the same time was a tactic that he hadn’t encountered before. He couldn’t be sure, but his gut was telling him that all 16 missiles were aimed at Wolfhound, and that meant his anti-missile defenses might be overwhelmed.
“Maneuvering.” Wolfgar waited until the officer turned to look at him. “Ease off on our acceleration just enough so that Banshee and Destiny pull ahead of us.” Without waiting for the usual acknowledgement, Wolfgar switched his com channel to Banshee only. “Mohammed, Wolfhound is going to drift back a bit. Can you have your point-defense fire on any missile that comes within range, even if it’s not targeting Banshee?”
“Ja, we can do that, Otto, but you’ll owe me one then.”
Wolfgar wanted to scream at Banshee’s Captain th
at plenty of favors were already owed the other way, but he resisted the urge. Right now, he needed Banshee more than she needed Wolfhound.
“I agree.” Wolfgar took a quick look at his tactical display and made some mental calculations. “I’m going to hold off on initiating missile fire until after their missiles arrive, Mohammed. I suggest you do the same. If we fire as soon as we can, our missiles might not clear the blast radius of those incoming warheads. Do you agree?”
“Okay, Otto. Like I said at Olympus, I’ll follow your lead on this one.”
Wolfgar called the Valhallan ship captain and got his agreement to wait too. By this time, Wolfhound had slipped back to a new position behind both Banshee and Destiny.
“They’ve fired again.” Wolfgar didn’t know who had spoken, but it didn’t matter. The enemy ship had just fired its third barrage.