So It Begins (Defending The Future)

by James Chambers

  The eventual reply from the Syndic CEO, once again hours later than it should have taken to arrive, was accompanied by the same artificial smile but a chiding tone. “We have been ordered to meet with certain Alliance officials and Syndicate Worlds diplomatic representatives at T’shima, Commander Geary. You’re asking us to violate our orders and the Alliance’s own agreement to our passage. My flotilla was delayed earlier by propulsion problems, so my light cruisers and Hunter-Killers are going on ahead to arrive at T’shima on time and bring word of the imminent arrival of the rest of the flotilla.” The Syndic CEO’s expression grew a little stern. “I hope you will not take any further steps to attempt to impede this important diplomatic initiative, Commander Geary.”

  “She’s definitely pressuring us,” Decala said. “It is possible they had propulsion problems. Those nickel corvettes are nothing for the Syndics to brag about.”

  Geary nodded. The Alliance fleet had nicknamed the Syndic corvettes “nickels” because they were small, cheap, and would be easily expended in combat. “If they didn’t have four heavy cruisers backing them up, I wouldn’t waste sleep worrying about the nickels. But otherwise, I feel like you do. That Syndic CEO is trying to push us into letting them pass, and she’s dragging her feet in dealing with us as much as she can while she keeps pushing. Why?”

  After a long moment, Decala replied. “It’s what I’d do if I was up to something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. If T’shima really expects them, then why hasn’t a ship arrived here from T’shima by now to escort them?”

  “And if the Syndics were delayed,” Geary added, “it makes it all the odder that no one from T’shima has come here yet. None of that is proof the Syndics are planning anything hostile. But if they are . . . Cara, I have the distinct feeling that no matter what we do, we’re going to be screwed.”

  “Join the fleet and service the Alliance,” Decala agreed in the sailors’ usual sardonic twist on the actual recruitment slogan to ‘serve’ the Alliance.

  “We’re two hours from intercepting the light cruisers and HuKs. I want the ship at maximum combat readiness one hour prior to intercept, just in case the Syndics try something else.”

  Decala nodded. “Yes, sir. But . . . combat readiness. Captain, if you’re wrong—”

  “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of different ways for me to be wrong,” Geary said. “We’re going to stick to our most fundamental mission. Defend Alliance space, citizens, and property.” And hope that there hadn’t been an unusually monumental screw-up by fleet staff which had left them at Grendel facing what was supposed to be a diplomatic situation but was fast spiraling out of control.

  “All systems at maximum combat readiness,” Decala reported. “All personnel at combat stations.”

  “Very well,” Geary acknowledged. He, Decala, and everyone else in the crew were in survival suits, ready in case the hull was breached and atmosphere within parts of the ship lost. “Charge hell lance batteries, load grapeshot launchers, and prep wraith missiles.”

  A moment later, as his commands were being executed, a virtual image popped up on Geary’s display. The avatar of Captain Erabus Booth, the current aide to the assistant to the deputy to the fleet chief of staff, gave Geary a stern look. “Charging and preparing weapons is not authorized by current guidance for routine encounters with Syndicate Worlds warships. You are directed to review regulations and instructions governing the current situation and to ensure that your every action conforms with those regulations and instructions. Failure to comply fully with existing guidance will result in appropriate reprimand or disciplinary action should investigation reveal failures or lapses in judgments—”

  Geary closed his eyes. “Commander Decala, please instruct the combat systems officer to kill Captain Booth.”

  “Disable his avatar in the combat system alert routine, you mean, sir?”

  “That’s all we have within reach at the moment, so it’ll have to do. Cara, if everything does go to hell here and I don’t make it back, please do your best to get those damned staff avatar alert routines removed from fleet warship operating systems. Tell everybody it was my last wish.” Not that he expected anyone would care what his last wishes had been if it came to that.

  “Yes, sir.” Decala didn’t argue, since she and every other officer on the Merlon felt the same way about the automated staff alerts embedded in the programming of the ship’s systems, and which ship officers usually referred to as HQ viruses or staff infections.

  Geary took another long breath, blowing it out slowly before he transmitted his next message. The Syndic light cruisers and HuKs were close now, only five light minutes distant, and coming on fast, the swift HuKs well ahead of the light cruisers. With Merlon approaching on an intercept from one side, the combined closing velocity was about point one two light speed, enough to stress the abilities of the combat systems to score hits during the very brief moments when the ships would be within range of each other. “Syndicate Worlds warships operating in the Grendel star system, this is Commander Geary on the Alliance heavy cruiser Merlon. Your ships are operating in an Alliance star system without authorization or clearance. You will not be allowed to jump for T’shima until such time as appropriate authorization is received. You must alter your vectors immediately. You will not be permitted to cross the current track of Merlon. You are ordered to veer off now.”

  He had done everything but threaten to open fire. Would it be enough? As the minutes went by with no reply from the Syndics and no variation in their course and speed, the answer increasingly seemed to be “no.”

  “We’ll be within wraith range of the HuKs in fifteen minutes,” Decala reported.

  Fifteen minutes. Geary checked the missile engagement parameters. He could fire as early as fifteen minutes, or as late as twenty-five minutes from now. After that, Merlon would be too close to the Syndic warships for the missiles to acquire targets before they shot past each other.

  Decala wasn’t pressing him for a decision. He imagined she was grateful that the decision wasn’t up to her. He would have been grateful in her place. “This would be a good time for my ancestors to give me a sign.”

  “I’ll let you know if mine tell me anything. Why do they just keep coming? Are the Syndics trying to provoke us into firing at them?” Decala wondered. “Putting the blame on us? But we’re in an Alliance star system. They’re disregarding our warnings. Any fault for what happens will clearly be theirs.”

  Geary managed a crooked smile. “Do your best to get assigned to my court-martial as one of the voting members.”

  She swallowed and spoke with exaggerated calm. “Have you ever actually been in combat before?”

  “Some minor incidents. Nothing like this.”

  “Me, either.”

  Ten minutes until they reached the engagement envelope for the wraiths. Geary made his voice as stern as he could. “Syndicate Worlds warships approaching the Alliance cruiser Merlon, you are ordered to change your vectors immediately to cease closing on any Alliance shipping or the jump point for T’shima. You will not be permitted to cross the track of this cruiser. This is your final warning.”

  Nothing changed, the Syndic warships approaching without the slightest sign of altering their courses or speeds. “Lieutenant Commander Decala, work up an engagement plan for the wraiths. I want the first wave targeted on the propulsion systems of the Syndic HuKs.”

  “Yes, sir.” With the help of the automated systems, the solutions popped up almost instantly. “Engagement plan prepared.”

  Geary felt outside himself for a moment, as if were he watching himself giving orders. “Assign the plan to the first wave of wraiths.”

  “Plan assigned. Wraiths ready to fire. Awaiting command authorization.”

  A red marker glowed before Geary now. All he had to do was tap that marker, call out “fire” for a verbal confirmation, and the missiles would fly. Geary activated an internal circuit letting him speak to his entire crew. “As you are all aw
are, we are close to contact with Syndicate Worlds’ warships. There is a real possibility that we may find ourselves forced into combat within a short time. You are an outstanding crew, well-trained, motivated and steadfast, and I know that you will face whatever challenge arises in a manner that will make our ancestors proud of us all.” As Geary ended the internal transmission, he wondered if he had overdone the pep talk, but it was how he honestly felt at the moment. “It’s up to the Syndics now,” he commented to his executive officer.

  “They must be planning something,” Decala insisted. “Why else keep coming? They’re counting on us not doing anything.”

  “We can’t afford not to do anything. They must know that.” Though the uncertainties made the temptation to not act very powerful. He didn’t know the Syndics were planning to attack. But he did know that if the light cruisers and HuKs got past Merlon unmolested, they would easily overhaul the transports, and could overwhelm Pommel and the three destroyers. The entire convoy could be wiped out, would be wiped out if the Syndics staged a surprise attack, and the Syndics would arrive at T’shima with no warning.

  Which had been the plan, Geary suddenly realized. “They didn’t know we’d be here. Their target is T’shima, but once they saw us they knew they had to prevent any of our ships from jumping first and warning T’shima the Syndic flotilla was coming.”

  Five minutes to missile engagement envelope.

  Decala nodded. “That explains what they’re doing. Keep stringing us along as long as possible. Get as close as they can before they attack to ensure none of us get away. It all fits.”

  It fit perhaps too neatly. Geary clenched his jaw tight enough to hurt as he thought about what firing first might mean, how many people might die here and afterward before the resulting conflict was resolved.

  But a final piece of the puzzle came to him as Merlon entered the wraith engagement envelope. “No battleship. No battle cruiser. Why would a major diplomatic mission not be accompanied by a capital ship?”

  “Because the Syndic battleships and battle cruisers must be engaged elsewhere,” Decala answered, her voice momentarily faltering. “May the living stars preserve us . . . . The Syndics must have flotillas entering Alliance space in many places. They’re attacking all along the border, without any warning. They must be. That’s why the Syndics here didn’t call off the attack when they saw us. This is just one of dozens of coordinated strikes.”

  Geary’s finger hovered near the red firing marker. The Syndic HuKs were very close now, only a light-minute distant, less than five minutes before intercept. He made up his mind, but as his finger moved alerts blared from the combat system. “The Syndic light cruisers are firing missiles!” the operations watch cried.

  His finger finished moving, the red marker flashing green. “Fire,” Geary said in a voice that sounded to him like that of a stranger. “Alter course up zero three degrees, come starboard zero four zero degrees. Hell lance batteries and grapeshot launchers engage when the HuKs enter firing envelopes.” The charged particle beams of the hell lances had much shorter ranges than the missiles, and the solid metal ball bearings of the grapeshot were only effective at very close range where their patterns were tight enough for the kinetic impacts to overwhelm a ship’s defenses. “Activate full counter-measures against Syndic missiles.”

  Merlon shuddered slightly as a wave of wraiths erupted from her, the missiles accelerating onto intercepts with the sterns of the oncoming Syndic HuKs. The Alliance cruiser was already turning, thrusters and main propulsion units pushing her onto a course close to parallel with that of the Syndics as the HuKs and Merlon rushed into contact. The final maneuver cut the closing rate slightly, but the two forces were still approaching each other at close to point one light speed, or about 30,000 kilometers per second.

  The moment of closest approach came and went, the remaining distance dwindling too fast for human minds to grasp, weapons firing under automated control since humans couldn’t react quickly enough, Geary barking out more commands the instant it was over. “Come starboard zero one two degrees, accelerate to point one one light speed.” Merlon’s structure groaned as the inertial dampers fought to compensate for maneuvering stresses which would have otherwise torn apart both ship and crew.

  “Nice run!” Decala exulted.

  Geary checked the results popping up on his display. Of the six HuKs, four had lost all or almost all propulsion as the wraith missiles slammed into their sterns. Two other HuKs were still able to maneuver, but one of them had been battered severely by Merlon’s hell lances and grapeshot and was falling off to one side, most of its weapons assessed out of action. The sixth HuK had only taken a couple of hits, but Pommel and the three Alliance destroyers could easily handle a single HuK which had already taken some damage. “We’ve still got four light cruisers to deal with.”

  “Syndic missiles inbound on final,” the combat systems watch called. “Hell lance batteries engaging.”

  Caught in a stern chase by Merlon’s maneuvers, the Syndic missiles were relatively easy targets, but there were a lot of them against the defenses which the heavy cruiser could bring to bear as thrusters pivoted her to face the attack bow on. Merlon shuddered again as a missile tore into her shields, weakening them, then bucked as a second missile rammed through the weak area and exploded against the cruiser’s armor. “Hell lance battery one alpha out of commission. No estimated time to repair. Armor breached forward. Damage control is sealing breached compartments,” Decala reported, her voice steady.

  “Target the next wave of wraiths on the propulsion systems of the light cruisers, then fire the final wave at the same targets.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He had a few moments to make another transmission, one to which he didn’t expect to have time to receive any reply. “Pommel, you are ordered to jump the convoy to T’shima as soon as you are in position to do so. All units are to jump. You are to warn T’shima that a Syndic flotilla is enroute and that they have initiated combat action against the Alliance. Merlon will follow if possible.” He had to take a second then to ensure his voice remained steady. “If Merlon cannot follow, you must assume her destruction at the hands of the Syndics and request that the Alliance fleet undertake action to drive the Syndics from Grendel and rescue Merlon’s crew as well as the crew of the emergency station. Good luck and may your ancestors watch over you. Geary out.”

  He was bringing Merlon around again as more warnings erupted. “Another wave of Syndic missiles inbound. Syndic light cruisers four minutes from contact.”

  The red marker glowed and Geary fired his wraiths again. “I’m giving you release authority for the third wave,” he told Decala. “Punch them out as soon as they’re ready to fly.”

  “Yes, sir. Captain, if we continue around like this we’ll be heading right into the teeth of the Syndic missile barrage, and we’ll be hit by all four light cruisers as we pass through their formation.”

  “I know. We have to stop those light cruisers and we only have a small window of time to do it in, so we have to ram straight through them.” Geary shook his head. “It’s going to cost us, but it’s the only way so we’re going to do it.”

  Decala nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Two more missile hits staggered Merlon. “We lost the port wraith launchers,” Decala reported. “Firing remaining wraiths.”

  The light cruisers and Merlon tore past each other, the heavy cruiser hurling out hell lance fire and grapeshot to all sides as she went between the Syndic light cruisers at a slight down angle and a sharp side angle. At the same time, fire from the Syndics lashed at Merlon, the heavy cruiser wobbling in her course from the impacts of three more missiles as well as hell lances and grapeshot hitting from every direction.

  It took Merlon’s battered sensors a few more moments than usual to evaluate damage to the enemy this time. Three of the light cruisers were out of the fight, their propulsion systems too badly damaged to allow them to catch the convoy now. The fourth light
cruiser was in fairly good shape, but Geary was bringing Merlon back again on a long curve, aiming to get in a firing run.

  “Forward and amidships shields have failed, hull armor is breached in multiple locations. All wraith launchers out of action,” Decala reported. “Hell lance batteries two bravo, three bravo, and four alpha out of action. Grapeshot launchers three, five, and six are out of action. Heavy damage amidships. Propulsion capability reduced to fifty percent. Seventeen dead confirmed, wounded total unknown.”

  Geary felt that curious detachment again as he stared at the display where the damage to Merlon showed as growing patches of red, then to the three disabled Syndic light cruisers, still throwing out long-range fire at Merlon, to the operational light cruiser firing missiles again, and then to the track of the Syndic heavy cruisers and corvettes coming on, steadily closing the distance. Doctrine called for pulling clear now, gaining distance and time for shields to rebuild, for damage to be repaired, to get up velocity shed by the turns. But if he did that, the last Syndic light cruiser would make it to the transports before they jumped, and Pommel and the destroyers wouldn’t be able to stop it before it crippled a bunch of the transports. Which left him only one option. “All nonessential personal abandon ship.”

  “What?” Decala shook her head, then focused on Geary again.

  “All nonessential personnel abandon ship,” Geary repeated. “Get them moving.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He concentrated on the remaining light cruiser as Merlon bore down on it. The Syndic light cruiser was beginning to draw away, but Geary brought Merlon across her stern at close enough range to blow apart the enemy’s main propulsion and leave her out of the battle.

  Merlon had saved the convoy, but the price for that victory was about to go a lot higher.

  A moment later two more missiles hit Merlon and the lights dimmed as circuits fought to automatically reroute themselves. “Propulsion down to ten percent.” Decala’s voice had grown mechanical, as if she were walling off emotion. “Only hell lance battery one bravo remains in action. All shields have failed. Engineering requests permission to retain all personnel aboard for damage control.”