“But our deflectors are twice as strong as hers, which means we outrange her by half again,” Kyle shook his head. “I’m not worried about engaging Triumphant in a ship-to-ship duel. It’s those Saints whose guns scare me.”
Seconds ticked away as Avalon burned through space – on a course exactly parallel-but-opposite to Triumphant’s.
“All starfighters are away,” Anderson reported. “They’re flying into our exhaust trail?”
“The positrons carry a charge,” Kyle pointed out. “They’re not focused or under pressure, so they’re not a significant threat to a ship with deflectors up. Makes a great shield.”
“I can barely see them,” the Tactical Officer whispered, his voice surprised.
“Sir, we’re burning a day’s worth of regular fuel every fifty-two seconds right now,” Pendez pointed out. “When are we jumping?”
“Captain, transmission received from the Commonwealth ships!”
Kyle nodded and turned to his Navigator.
“Take us into FTL now, Maria,” he ordered.
As the singularities and Stetson stabilization fields flickered into place around the carrier, the familiar distortions settling across his view, Avalon’s Captain leaned back in his chair and nodded to his communications officer.
“Forward me their message.”
The image of a dark-skinned man with Amerindian features in the red-sashed black uniform of the Commonwealth Navy, appeared on his implant feed. The stranger’s hair was tied back in what appeared to be a shoulder-length braid, and his collar bore the single gold star of a Commodore – the Terran equivalent to Kyle’s own rank.
“Federation warship, this is Commodore James Tecumseh aboard the battleship Saint Anthony,” Tecumseh said calmly. “I can guess why you’re here. I can understand why you’re here.
“But this is Commonwealth space, and your presence is not welcome.”
Tecumseh paused.
“We are in hot pursuit of Triumphant. I will permit you to witness the conclusion of this pursuit, but if you do not then withdraw from this system, I will have no choice but to engage and destroy your ship. Should Triumphant elude us, such an action would prevent me from pursuing Captain Richardson as he deserves.
“His actions are a stain on the honor of the Commonwealth Navy,” the Terran Commodore concluded. “I would shed no blood today but his.
“Tecumseh, out.”
Kyle smiled grimly.
“Time to emergence?”
“Five minutes and counting,” Pendez replied.
“Let’s see who counts as in hot pursuit then, shall we?” he murmured.
#
Six minutes after disappearing from normal space, Avalon emerged again in a second burst of Cherenkov radiation. While they hadn’t actually broken lightspeed in their micro-jump, the difference between the starship’s regular acceleration of two hundred and fifty gravities and the estimated Alcubierre-Stetson drive acceleration of a hundred and thirty five thousand gravities still made short A-S hops useful.
Now, they were in front of Triumphant – emerging only a handful of kilometers from where Kyle estimated the rogue Commonwealth warship was planning on going FTL – with a vector directly towards her.
“Record for transmission to Commodore Tecumseh,” Kyle ordered, then smiled calmly into the tiny camera pickup on his chair.
“Commodore Tecumseh, this is Captain Kyle Roberts aboard Avalon,” he greeted the other officer calmly. “As you yourself said, I am in hot pursuit of Triumphant and have been since Captain Richardson launched antimatter warheads at an inhabited planet under the protection of the Alliance of Free Stars.
“My assessment is that your task group will not be able to intercept Triumphant before she escapes this system. Avalon will.
“You are welcome to bear witness to the fate of those who embrace atrocity as a weapon of war, and if you do not intervene we will leave this system with no further conflict. Captain Richardson’s actions place him beyond the pale – and beyond the protection of the Commonwealth.
“I would shed no blood today but his,” Kyle quoted back at the officer, and then killed the transmission.
“Do you really think that will work, Captain?” Solace asked over the link from Secondary Control. “Richardson may be a rogue, but standing back and watching us blow a Terran warship out of the sky is one hell of a pill for Tecumseh to swallow.”
“It’s a long shot,” he admitted. “I call it seventy-thirty he fights. Be prepared for it.”
“Sir, Triumphant is adjusting course,” Anderson announced. “She’s reversing her acceleration – they’re falling back on Tecumseh’s battle group.”
“Richardson is thinking the same thing you are, Commander,” he told Solace. “He stands a better chance in a Commonwealth brig than a shattered starship, so he’ll play it up.”
“Take us after her, Commander Pendez – flank acceleration.”
“Oh thank god,” his Navigator muttered. He chose to ignore that. The roughly two minutes they’d spent at four hundred gravities had served multiple purposes, but it had also burned through nearly five percent of the ship’s total reaction mass reserve.
They were now almost two light minutes from Triumphant – over two and a half from Saint Anthony and her sister ship. With a combined velocity approaching three percent of lightspeed, however, that distance was going to evaporate quickly.
“Drones away,” Anderson reported. “Assuming no change in profile, we’ll have real-time information on Triumphant in roughly forty minutes. I’m staggering drone launches and acceleration profiles, we should be able to maintain real-time information indefinitely from that point.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Kyle replied.
The battleship was going to change acceleration eventually – if Richardson tried to run through Tecumseh’s battle group and leave them to fight Avalon, it was unlikely to end well for the rogue Captain. Sometime in the next half an hour, he would start accelerating back towards the carrier.
Kyle had a guess, but sharing it with his crew would be embarrassing if he was wrong, so he watched the timer tick away the minutes
“Sir!” Anderson suddenly interrupted his thoughts with a shout. He saw what the Tactical Officer had seen almost instantly.
Saint Anthony was breaking off. Her course was exactly perpendicular to her previous path, pulling her away from the coming confrontation at over two kilometers a second squared.
“Do we have a message from our Terran friend?” he asked.
“Wait, watch the other ship,” Anderson interrupted again, and Kyle looked at the tactical feed again with a sigh.
The second Saint remained on course for rendezvous with Triumphant.
“We have received a transmission from Commodore Tecumseh. Feeding it to you, Captain.”
The Terran Commodore appeared on the screen, looking surprisingly calm for a man who had chosen to condemn an entire battleship to death.
“Captain Roberts,” he said calmly. “You are correct in your tactical assessment. For the sake of the honor of the Commonwealth Navy, and to see these criminals brought to the justice their actions have earned, I am breaking off and leaving Triumphant to you.
“If you do not vacate the system upon the neutralization of Captain Richardson’s vessel, I will take whatever actions are necessary to defend Barsoom. Until then, however, I am declaring a temporary cease fire in the interest of justice.”
He paused, tilting his head slightly in the manner the vast majority of humans had acquired when receiving a voice transmission to their implant. The big dark-skinned Commodore sighed.
“I must also warn you that Captain Antioch of Saint Augustine has informed me my orders are illegal and is continuing on his course. While I will not engage you prior to Triumphant’s destruction, I will also not permit you to fire on the Saint Augustine.
“Tecumseh, out.”
#
“Triumphant has made turnover,” Anderson re
ported.
Kyle checked the time. Seventeen minutes after they’d started accelerating towards the Saint Augustine and still six million kilometers short of the other battleship. Saint Anthony had now separated two million kilometers from her sister ship, her velocity dropping as she fell back to defend Barsoom from any threat Avalon could make.
“Time to range for us, Triumphant and Saint Augustine?”
“We will range on Triumphant at two point one million kilometers in nineteen minutes, fifteen seconds,” Anderson reported. “Triumphant will range on us at one point two million kilometers in nineteen minutes, fifty seconds. Passing velocity will exceed five percent of lightspeed.”
Kyle nodded. Triumphant had one megaton lances to Avalon’s seven hundred kiloton main guns, but the newer carrier’s deflectors were over twice as powerful. He was sure the Commonwealth, like the Alliance, was looking to retrofit its older ships’ deflectors – but they hadn’t yet. Those thirty five seconds would almost certainly be enough to turn the battleship into scattered debris.
“And the Saint Augustine?” he asked quietly. The Saint-class battleship’s deflectors were as strong as Avalon’s, which meant he wouldn’t range on them until much later.
“Augustine will range on us at one point two million kilometers… fifteen seconds after we can target Triumphant,” Anderson said quietly. “She will be roughly two light seconds closer to us than Triumphant at that point. We will range on her at eight hundred and fifty thousand kilometers, forty-five seconds after she ranges on us.”
“We won’t live that long, Captain,” Solace pointed out quietly. “What’s your plan?”
“We carry on,” Kyle ordered. “We make them think we’re calling their bluff – and no matter what, we don’t fire at Augustine first.”
“Our only chance of taking her out without the starfighters is to launch missiles now,” Anderson told him.
“Commander, do you really think you can get a nine missile salvo past the defenses of the Triumphant, let alone the Saint Augustine?” Avalon’s Captain asked quietly. “Because if you can, feel free to open fire on Triumphant. We’re in range.”
“Why hasn’t she launched on us then?” Solace asked.
“Richardson is saving his missiles,” Kyle replied. “He can’t have many left, and he’s counting on Saint Augustine to cover for him today. Sadly, I suspect he’s saving his missiles for Saint Augustine.”
He felt more than saw the shiver that ran through his crew.
“They’ve got to be wondering the same thing about our fighters,” Anderson realized. “It’s a guessing game all around.”
“Exactly,” Kyle told him with bared teeth. “And so whether we all live or die comes down to who guessed better – me, or Captain Richardson.”
“What about Augustine?” Solace asked.
“If Captain Antioch guesses right, he could change how this ends,” Kyle acknowledged. “But he’s already guessed wrong once today. I’m not discounting him, but he has shown his intuition to be… flawed.”
“Sir, Saint Augustine is launching missiles!”
Captain Kyle Roberts nodded with a calm smile and leaned back in his command chair, eyeing the icons marking the thirty heavy missiles on his tactical feeds.
“So it begins,” he murmured.
“You may return fire, Mister Anderson.”
Chapter 41
Barsoom System
20:15 January 21, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Bridge
Timing was everything. Saint Augustine’s first missiles would reach Avalon over three minutes before she could range on Triumphant. Even faced with top-of-the-line capital ship missiles, the supercarrier could probably handle thirty missiles.
Saint Augustine’s first missiles concerned him. The second salvo, fired a minute later, worried him a bit more.
The actual problem was that Triumphant had finally fired a missile salvo shortly after Saint Augustine had. Those twenty-four missiles would arrive alongside Augustine’s third salvo. Without starfighters to play the first line of defense, Kyle wasn’t at all sure his ship could take over fifty missiles.
“Hold your course, Commander Pendez,” he ordered softly. “Commander Anderson, I’ll take control of our missiles if you please. Focus on your defenses.”
Kyle’s gamble might still pay off, but that required them to still be alive when they reached positron lance range of Triumphant.
“Lieutenant Carter,” he turned to his communication officer. “Any word from Commodore Tecumseh?”
“No, sir.”
The commander of the Terran Task Group was apparently willing to stand back and watch. To be fair, Tecumseh was probably the smartest Terran officer in the system, which meant he had to be feeling paranoid about the absence of Kyle’s fighters.
“First salvo impact in five minutes,” Anderson reported. “I estimate a thirty-five second engagement window for active defense. Commander Solace,” he turned to the XO on the intercom. “I’m passing control of the inner zone to Secondary Control.”
“We’re locked in here, Commander Anderson,” she replied calmly. “You clean, we’ll sweep.”
Kyle left his subordinates to it. The light positron lances used for anti-fighter and anti-missile defense could start killing missiles at a million kilometers. The laser defense array had more coverage and more beams, but a lot less effective range.
He focused on that third combined salvo. The nine missile salvos that Anderson had launched weren’t going to get through either battleship’s defenses. Kyle had let his Tactical Officer launch them as much in reflex as anything else, but he still had a use for them.
“Impact in one minute, targeting with outer defenses.”
Keeping a quarter of his mind on the immediate threat, Avalon’s Captain directed his missiles carefully. Unlike the drones they could use to watch the battle, missiles didn’t carry Q-Com systems – no one was going to put entangled particle arrays on something designed to be destroyed. An array large enough to be useful would increase the cost of a missile roughly a hundred-fold, leaving a single capital ship missile costing a third of the price of an entire starfighter.
Timing was everything.
Even as his subordinates fought to protect the carrier from the current attack, Kyle studied the enemy missiles, laid in the directions, and programmed his orders. A moment’s thought sent a second salvo of missiles thundering out into space.
“First salvo is clear,” Solace reported, her voice spiky with adrenaline. “Second salvo entering engagement range in twenty seconds. Third salvo in ninety seconds.”
“Lance range in two minutes, thirty seconds,” Anderson reported.
Kyle gave his final orders and returned his attention to the main plot. The inevitable natural ‘jamming’ effect of antimatter explosions was messing with their sensors now, with the cloud of radioactive debris from the first thirty missiles surrounding the big carrier.
“Second salvo entering range.”
In the same instant Saint Augustine’s second set of thirty missiles entered range of Avalon’s defense, her third salvo interpenetrated with the nine missiles the carrier had fired back. The screen flashed with white light as all nine of Kyle’s missiles shot closer to the Commonwealth missiles and detonated.
His subordinates wisely focused on their own work and Kyle studied the results. He’d lucked out – twelve missiles were gone, the Stormwinds not smart enough to avoid proximity kills without some kind of warning.
Even as he watched, though, the missiles spread apart – as did Triumphant’s. His second salvo dove into the heart of Triumphant’s salvo, but the missiles’ simplistic but fast brains had reacted in time.
Only six missiles died this time, and Kyle leaned back in his chair as the remaining forty missiles charged in on his command.
“Second salvo clear,” Solace reported grimly. “Third salvo entering range in thirty seconds. I confirm forty – repeat, f
our zero, missiles remaining.” She met Kyle’s gaze through the intercom. “We’ll do what we can, sir.”
The statue he’d accepted as his XO in time of stress was gone, and there was something in her eyes as she looked at him. He shook his head gently.
“No, Mira,” he told her. “This is Avalon. We do what no one else can!”
There was a smile and a cheer on his people’s lips as the enemy missiles charged into range.
#
Kyle was out of tricks now. No missiles left to use as sacrificial lambs. No aggressive suicide charge to shock and awe a second-rate enemy into submitting. No smart Alcubierre tricks to confound and surprise the foe.
Just one hole card he’d already played, and the sheer grit and skill of the crew of the deep space supercarrier Avalon. It would have to do.
Positron beams glittered across his tactical display as Anderson opened fire. Ghosts flickered around them as the Tactical Officer’s subordinates unleashed the carrier’s electronic warfare suite, tempting and tricking missiles away from their targets.
Seconds ticked by before the near-lightspeed weapons hit their targets. Missiles began to die. Avalon’s forward broadsides mounted one hundred seventy-kiloton-per-second lances, and those weapons tore into the Terran missiles.
But those missiles had their own ECM. Ghosts flickered and appeared around the missiles, and the missiles themselves jerked and spiraled, throwing off Anderson’s targeting programs and forcing misses.
A dozen missiles died. Then another dozen. Then sixteen missiles tore into the inner defense zone and the hundreds of small lasers mounted along Avalon’s arrowhead hull opened fire.
Kyle held his breath. He wasn’t the only one, and seconds passed in dead silence as Avalon’s crew guided their ship from inside their implants. Missiles died, first in singles, then in pairs – a full dozen of the deadly weapons flashing apart in antimatter fire as Solace took them out with deadly precision.
Stellar Fox (Castle Federation Book 2) Page 30