The Jovian Sweep (Asteroid Scrabble Book 1)

by Martin Bourne

  The man checked one of his displays. “Ganymede Ultima reports the scout has stopped transmitting.” He peered closer. “It’s been destroyed.”

  “What was the name of the warrior controlling ‘Flashlight 6’?”

  “Lieutenant Hoshi Ho, ma’am.”

  “Did he get out alright?”

  “Ganymede station reports Lieutenant Ho is being treated for nervous overload.”

  Cromarty turned to Courage. “Lieutenant Ho did very well sir. I think it might be good if his efforts were recognised.”

  “I agree.” Courage motioned to Prince. “Make a note to award a commendation.”

  Prince made a few motions on his perscomp.

  Cromarty turned to the Comms officer again “I think it would be good if we got regular updates on Lieutenant Ho’s condition.”

  The deck officer’s eyes shifted to Courage.

  “Yes, yes, that would be a fine thing to do. Please make that happen, Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, aye sir.”

  There was a pause. He could tell all the ex-link warriors were thinking about Ho and the horrors of link fatigue. He'd been there himself, but he was anxious to lose himself in the tactical situations now being updated in the Holotank. When he could take it no longer he strode up to the flag bridge. Cromarty and Prince hurried to keep up. Once there he activated the main Holotank repeater and tied in his personal computer. There might not be any definite information to work on, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t check over his contingency plans.

  If this really was a Triangle battlegroup the Jovian fleet wasn’t in too bad a shape to meet it. Well, not as bad as it had been even a week ago, and vastly more so than when he had arrived. He could have wished there had been more time for training, but at least the fleet was pretty well concentrated and the component elements were tighter, better organised and deployed.

  The only units completely out of position were the two Escort Depot Ships that had been at Ganymede, Dragon and Griffin. Their refits had taken longer than expected, partly because he had to give priority to the Fleet Depot Ships and they had been dragging their feet; and partly because of the chronic shortage of supply ships. The two had only just completed and were moving to rejoin. As a consequence, they were isolated. If this contact proved to be a full Triangle League fleet they might even be in some danger. He had to get them out of the way.

  It wouldn’t be easy. From Valiant’s current position it would be quite impossible to transmit to them directly. There was too much chance the transmission would be intercepted, or at least its source being traced. He would have to go through Ganymede, but that would take longer and risk signal degradation. He was so engrossed in the problem he had quite a start when Commander Prince spoke.

  “Not too much extra information got through, sir,” he said, tapping at his perscomp, “but that one there,” he pointed to one of the icons Flashlight 6 had gotten very close to, “is certainly a large fleet Depot ship. That one and that one,” he motioned to others only slightly further away, “might be too.”

  “Where there’s one, there must be more,” said Cromarty philosophically. “The best way to operate Depot Ships is in company, and they aren’t as strapped for them as we are.”

  “No,” said Courage, matching her mood. “Well, distribute this analysis to every ship in the fleet. They might as well know what we are up against.” He turned to Prince, who was making notes on a vidscroll in a fast, jerky manner. “Well, Commander. Your first real campaign has officially started. Feeling confident?”

  “Nervous sir,” said Prince.

  “Very wise. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel that. Well, let’s get to it.” He tapped his fingers against the top of the console, mentally ran his decisions once more just to be sure, and then spoke as clearly as he could.

  “Our top priority must be to concentrate the fleet. Most of our pieces are in position already, except for Dragon and Griffin, here, Florentine here, and Belofte and Philanthropist, here.” He stood up straight. “Signal Florentine to sail immediately to join Admiral Vanderkolk’s command. Signal Belofte and Philanthropist to rejoin us here. Best possible cruising speed. If they haven’t fully refuelled they’ll have to go with what they’ve got.”

  Prince pointed out the two Escorts. “What about Dragon and Griffin sir?”

  “They're the most significant, but if they move to us directly at cruising speed they might stray too close to the Trig Fleet. Not only would they get spotted, they might even pull the Trigs onto us."

  "Going to full speed would increase the chance of them being spotted, not to mention burning up a lot of fuel," pointed out Prince.

  "Right, and with the shortage of tankers it might be difficult to top them up. So signal them to veer twenty degrees to rimwards for six hours, and then plot a new course to rejoin us. Again, best possible cruising speed.”

  “Aye, aye sir”.

  “Commander Cromarty? We will need to inform the various Jovian Satellite governments, but I want to make a statement directly to the media too. It’ll have to be very carefully written. I don’t want to lie to them, but at the same time I don’t want to cause panic.”

  “I will get something drafted for you sir.”

  “Thank you.” He pursed his lips. “Now, as to the rest of the fleet. Send out a notice to cancel all leave, have all absent personnel recalled and complete any refuelling and resupply as soon as possible. I want everyone ready to sail within two hours.”

  The meeting broke up, his aides scurrying to put his orders into effect. Courage stayed to stare at the holotank. The solid contacts were already blurring as their positions and courses became estimates. They were virtually useless at the end of an hour, when he reconvened with his aides.

  “We just completed a complete analysis of the scout drone’s sensor information admiral," began Prince. "We’ve got a line on what we are facing.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s the Hammer sir.”

  Cromarty stared. “The Hammer?”

  “A substantial part of it anyway.”

  “The Hammer,” repeated Cromarty, “as in the Triangle force that jumped us at Second Astraea and took out the 6th Battle squadron?”

  “The very same.”

  “This just gets worse,” said Cromarty, turning to Courage. “When VSB said we would be outnumbered and outgunned they didn’t mention it would be by the Triangle League’s premiere strike fleet.”

  “They might not have known,” said Prince.

  “They must at least have suspected.”

  Courage brushed the discussion aside. “Intelligence knew the ‘Hammer’ was in extended refit, but they dropped out of sight when they sailed. We haven’t had a contact with them for over a month. It’s immaterial they turned up here.”

  “Immaterial? The Hammer is just about the most powerful force the Trigs have!”

  Courage shrugged. “True, but then we always knew we were going to be outnumbered and outgunned. It doesn’t matter too much who it is that's doing it. On the contrary, it kind of works for us, as we know the units that usually make up the Hammer. We therefore have an intelligence advantage.”

  There was a pause as his aides digested this.

  “If you don’t mind me saying sir,” said Cromarty carefully, “that sounds an awful lot like making the best out of some very bad news.”

  “No,” said Courage. "It isn't."

  “It’s how people will interpret it sir.”

  “You're in charge of PR. Make sure they interpret it differently.”

  Cromarty opened her mouth to speak again, thought better of it. Finally Prince coughed and spoke up.

  “A message just came in from Coordinator Wentworth too sir.”

  “Concerning?”

  “Our request for reinforcements.” Prince studied his perscomp. “Extra vessels have been allocated to us. The Depot Ships Vengeur and Collins are now on their way. The Escort Depot Ships Queen Anne, Chrysalis Burst and Leopard will sail from Cestus base
in the next forty-eight hours.”

  Courage and Cromarty studied the details carefully on their own perscomps.

  “That’s a major augmentation of our strength sir,” said Cromarty, “and this is from before we knew about the Hammer. Virtue Fleet Command MUST have known something…”

  Her voice trailed off. Courage was concentrated on perusing the details. Prince coughed. “If all the Trigs have out there is the ‘Hammer’, those reinforcements will give us more Depot ships than them and an approximate parity in drone numbers.”

  “IF that is all the Trigs have,” Cromarty pointed out.

  Courage rubbed his chin. “Yes. Unfortunately, those reinforcements wouldn’t give us parity in quality, and it’s immaterial anyway as the earliest any of them will get here is three weeks. This fight will be well over by then, one way or another.” Courage tapped at his own perscomp. “I said as much in a signal. I don’t know why VSB bothered to send them.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Cromarty and Prince exchanged glances. “Something I should know?”

  “Well sir…” began Prince.

  “It’s like this sir,” interrupted Cromarty. “The Jovian Fleet was only assembled so that staff officers would be able to say they had ‘responded’. Now that a real and very substantial threat has materialised, they have to send reinforcements so that the response looks credible. The fact that those reinforcements have no chance of reaching us in time will be conveniently overlooked. They can say it was ‘unfortunate’ that help arrived too late.”

  Courage managed to hide his exasperation. “It doesn’t matter. Our plans are already drawn up. The strategy we will be pursuing was never dependent on receiving extra resources anyway.” He shifted carefully, working out a knot in his shoulder. “I suppose it would be churlish to state all that so bluntly.”

  “Not important to us sir,” replied Cromarty, “but immensely important to Coordinator Wentworth.”

  Courage shifted. “Hmm. I was right. It IS churlish to state it all bluntly.”

  “Sorry sir.”

  “No matter Commander. I suppose you had better get our latest discovery about the Hammer off to Virtue Fleet command, just in case they don’t know.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  “In the meantime, we shall proceed as planned.”

  “I’ll add to our note that the presence of the Hammer does not impinge on our strategy sir,” remarked Cromarty. “That should boost morale.”

  Inwardly Courage sighed. It was well that Cromarty was here.

  Chapter 25.

  Escort Depot Ship Dragon, ten spatials counter-spinwards of Persephone.

  “Captain on the bridge.”

  The yell came from close on his right. It was loud and unexpected and it caused Captain MacMorris to make a very unseemly little jump. While he gathered the shreds of his dignity, the automatic door swished shut behind him. He made to head for his command chair, but immediately pulled up short. The small bridge of Dragon was inundated with junior officers at ramrod straight positions. They blocked just about every vidscreen and instrument.

  “As you were,” he managed.

  “As you were,” repeated his executive officer. The unnatural postures of a dozen people immediately lapsed into ordered chaos. MacMorris stepped up to the severe looking female officer by the tactical holotank.

  “Lot of people on the bridge Karen,” he remarked.

  “Change of watch sir. Red shift to Gold.”

  So it was. Indeed he could see now that half of the officers were briefing their replacements, then exchanging salutes and stilted statements. It was as it should be, but MacMorris secretly hated most of the obscure ceremonial trappings the navy insisted on retaining. It was supposed to foster a group dynamic and a respect for the past. In his opinion all it did was concentrate the minds of junior officers on irrelevancies.

  It would never do to admit to having such heretical thoughts to anyone else, of course.

  “Already? I thought it was earlier. Anything to report?”

  “We are still on course and rate of acceleration to rendezvous with the fleet tomorrow midday sir. Griffin is keeping station 200 millispatials to spinwards of us. We have six drones out at present, five on picket, one as part of the rolling relief plan.”

  MacMorris studied the holotank tactical plan with as much interest as he could muster. Of course there was nothing wrong. Karen Kavinsky was one of the most competent officers he had ever served with. He secretly feared that she knew far more about the running of a Depot ship than he did. But it was expected that the captain check over her work. Expected by the Admiralty, by regulations, and most importantly, by Kavinsky and the crew.

  “Very well,” said MacMorris after thirty seconds. That should be enough. He headed to his chair.

  The relieved watch were by then beginning to file off the bridge. One of them interrupted what should have been his stately progress.

  “Sorry sir” said the unfortunate subordinate, as he fumbled a hasty salute.

  MacMorris stared. Arm still raised, the fellow stood his ground.

  “Carry on.” The man’s arm drooped and he froze into a half-crouched position, partly trying to move, partly trying to stand at attention. He twitched as he oscillated between the two positions.

  “I said carry on!” said MacMorris, more sharply. Then understanding came. “Oh for…” He sketched a salute himself, and his subordinate, greatly relieved, took the opportunity to flee.

  Carefully MacMorris eased himself into his chair. His back was troubling him again. He couldn’t recall doing anything out of the ordinary, yet last night he had felt a small twinge. He had hoped it would have gone away after a good night’s rest but it was still there, sending uncomfortable jolts of pain at unexpected intervals. He hadn’t slept well either, and that didn’t help.

  Oh well, a happy retirement was only a few years off, providing of course that he didn’t make any major mistakes in this coming campaign. He involuntarily shook his head. A real campaign at long last. He had worked his way up from lowly deckhand to captain of a fine Depot Ship. He had once longed for action; yearned to prove himself in battle. Time had steadily eroded his enthusiasm. Year had followed year in quiet sectors, patrolling, enforcing customs - the occasional spice of a reconnaissance mission. Actual combat had eluded him.

  And he had done well. Well, the Admiralty kept offering him new contracts anyway. Of course they were short of experienced spacers of his seniority. And then, out of the blue, Dragon had been plucked from obscurity and tacked onto this Jovian Defence Fleet. He hadn't known what to make of it all. Admiral Jack Courage didn't have a very good reputation, but he had studied that business at Verdrag and he didn't see what else the man could have done. He had certainly shook everything up. In the last three weeks a fifth of the crew had been reallocated, repairs that he had recommended needed doing for years have been miraculously approved - the ship was buzzing.

  He checked their position. Another six hours before they rejoined the fleet. What would happen then? The ship was certainly as ready as it could be, but what of the crew? In spite of all his experience the jingle of inner nerves was still there. After all these years of preparation, would they be found wanting when the time came? Would he? It was exciting, agonising and worrying in equal measure.

  “Contact!” shouted the officer on the Sensors console. “Contact, bearing one nineteen eighty-five!”

  MacMorris started out of his reverie. Kavinsky flipped the bridge tactical holotank to a repeat of the Sensors console. Macmorris scrambled to her side, wincing slightly when his back sent him a small complaint. Sure enough, a small green icon had appeared just off their stern.

  “What is it Sensors?” asked MacMorris.

  “Small, fast moving object - closing rapidly.”

  Kavinsky pushed buttons, and glowered at the results. “It’s less than four spatials away! Where did it come from?”

  “There was no indication on the
long range scanners,” said the unfortunate Sensors officer defensively, “or from any of the pickets. It just popped up out of nowhere.”

  “That is hardly a complete report and it does not…” began Kavinsky.

  “It doesn’t matter here and now,” said MacMorris, leaning over to her so that no one else could hear. Kavinsky might be an excellent officer, but she did have a tendency to go into too much detail at inappropriate times. Sitting up and raising his voice, he called over to the Sensors officer. “What is your confidence on this contact?”

  “Definitely artificial,” the man said at once, obviously keen to make amends. “Small, fast moving, and self-propelled - it just changed course. It must be a drone.” MacMorris saw his eyes widen. “TWO definite contacts! Two drones, now bearing one seventeen eighty-seven. Closing very fast!”

  “Scan them! I want to know what they are! Sound the alarm.”

  As he stood up he noticed that Kavinsky had already magically reached the station.

  “Red alert!” intoned his second in command. “All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is not a drill. All hands assume battle stations.”

  MacMorris turned to the officer on the Communications console. “Comms? Notify Griffin. See if they can get a better fix.”

  “Er…yes…I mean, aye, aye sir.”

  “Come on Comms, look alert.” Confound it! It was bad luck that the Bridge team had just come on duty and not settled yet! Still, how could they not have spotted two contacts until they were right on top of them? When this was all over, he would have to get to the bottom of that.

  He had a more immediate problem. What were these contacts? They weren’t from Griffin, and ground based reconnaissance drones from Persephone would be operating singly. If they weren’t Confederation drones…he didn’t want to think of the alternative.

  He rotated the images on the bridge tactical Holotank, and zoomed out slightly. Two blue icons, Dragon and Griffin, floated in the centre, surrounded on all sides by a few irregularly spaced azure specks. Their picket drones. No signal from them either. Directly behind them were two green icons, representing unknown contacts, now dangerously close. He zoomed in. They were moving fast and directly towards the two Confederation Depot Ships. They must have spotted them. He had a sudden, sick feeling of certainty.