Exodus: Machine War: Book 2: Bolthole

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Exodus: Machine War: Book 2: Bolthole Page 21

by Doug Dandridge


  “Two that we know of, your Majesty,” said McCullom, looking at the Empress. “There’s no telling how many of them they actually have. They had one in the system the scout team was surveying, and one of the destroyers picked up the other one in hyper coming back from Machine space. There’s no doubt they were two different ships, so we’re assuming they were built in two different systems. And we just don’t know how many industrial systems these damned things might have, and how many of those would have been used to build these mothers.”

  “Too many assumptions,” said Jennifer, looking over at Sean. “We just don’t know anything. Their numbers, their tech, their capabilities. All just guesswork.”

  “And now you know why intelligence is so important, your Majesty,” said McCullom, giving the Empress a small smile. “Until you know your enemy, it’s really difficult to formulate a workable plan to fight them.”

  Sean just stared at the holo, shaking his head. “Well, what was looking like a side show has just become another major fight.”

  He shook his head again, then put his face in his hands. Jennifer leaned over and put an arm around his shoulders, rubbing her free hand across his chest. Sean smiled at her, then looked back at the Admiral.

  “Sondra, I want those ships gates out there. One for Bolthole, and one for Klassek. And I want them opened last week. Do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” your Majesty. “We already have the materials to convert one gate into a ship portal. We were thinking Bolthole first off.”

  And if we give Bolthole the first gate, we will have protected that vital base, thought the Emperor, knowing that the decision was his, and, like so many he had made since he had assumed the throne, millions might live or die based on it. But we know that one of the planet killers is on its way to Klassek, and they are also a vital resource.

  “Open the first gate at Klassek,” he told the CNO, watching as her eyes widened.

  “But, what about Bolthole?”

  “They will get their gate, next up,” said the Emperor. “And I want a fleet gathered that can be sent to defend Klassek.”

  “I’m not sure we can get enough there to defend it,” said McCullom, her shoulders slumping.

  “Then get a powerful enough force there to give them a chance.” He looked her in the eyes for a moment. “Just follow my orders, Admiral. You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. And I take full responsibility for the outcome on myself.” As always.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I may not have a lot of control over the situation when it degenerates into chaos.

  What I do have control over is my own fear.

  Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk.

  BOLTHOLE. MARCH 22ND, 1002.

  Fleet Admiral Beata Bednarczyk sat in her command chair, studying the tactical plot intently. The Machine ships were still coming in, accelerating at twelve hundred gravities, already up to point seven three light. They had launched their large weapons, what they used as missiles, twelve minutes before. They had fired all of their shots at Bednarczyk’s force, which made sense, since hers was the larger of the two groups, and the one that stood in their way to get to the Bolthole asteroid.

  I wonder if they’re going to learn from this, thought the Admiral, hoping with all her will that they didn’t. The eight thousand ton weapons seemed like fearsome missiles at first glance. Individually, they were more capable than the one hundred and fifty ton capital ship missiles her battleships and battle cruisers were throwing, but they had shot their load with a mere two hundred weapons in space, while the Imperial wave, even fired from mostly exploration vessels, was over a thousand. The thousand that the Machines were concentrating on, the ones generating all the gravitons that were screaming look at me.

  “First wave contact in seven minutes, twelve seconds,” called out the Fleet Tactical Officer.

  She was still worried about the Machine weapons coming in. The counter showed an impact time of just over twenty-six minutes. In one minute their wave of missiles would pass by the enemy group, and those weapons would no longer be capable of targeting the large Machine devices. And she couldn’t send them a grav wave instruction to target those weapons until she was sure her first wave did its job.

  “Have all ships prepare pods for firing,” she ordered her Com and Tactical Officers.

  “Ma’am?” said the Tactical Officer in a questioning tone.

  “I don’t want you to fire them yet, but I want them prepared. Clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied the Tactical Officer, sending the information over to the Com Officer for transmission to the rest of the force.

  Large, rounded shapes were attached to all of the capital ships of the force. Each was a cylindrical pod, containing a dozen capital ship missiles that had been manufactured by the Bolthole missile works. Shortcuts had been taken on all of the missiles. They didn’t have the staying power of the weapons the ships had already launched, they carried smaller warheads and much less capable comp and targeting systems. That way they had been able to produce twice as many missiles. Each of her two battleships were carrying twenty of the pods, for an extra four hundred and eighty missiles, while the battle cruisers carried ten each, for another four hundred and eighty weapons, giving her almost another thousand missiles. The ships could theoretically carry more, but there were still concerns about putting objects with antimatter warheads outside of the armored hull of the ships.

  “First wave missiles acquiring,” shouted out the Tactical Officer as the missiles that had been on ballistic, their predicted positions showing as pale green arrows, firmed up into the brightness of objects being tracked by active graviton emissions.

  The Machines reacted quickly, as expected from computer minds that didn’t need the input of organics to make the first decision, that to commit their weapons to action. Still, they only had ten seconds to target and engage against sixty missiles coming in at point nine five light. The missiles had gone to full electronic warfare suites as soon as they boosted, each also launching decoys that caught the attention of the Machine ships for a vital couple of seconds. A half second later the missiles calved, releasing nine warheads to maneuver away from the main body of the missile and its larger warhead.

  “What the hell?” blurted out the Tactical Officer as the enemy ships on the plot also multiplied. Now there were eighty-three vessels heading their way, all of them smaller than the original vessels.

  “They were linked ships,” said the Admiral, staring at the plot, which was now showing her missiles, which had been targeted on less than forty vessels, dropping off the plot as the fast thinking computer brains took them under fire.

  Of the six hundred warheads streaking in, the Machines took out over four hundred of them before they got into the close attack range of two light seconds. A hundred and fifty-four of them dropped off at that point, knocked out by something that the Imperial force couldn’t see. Which left forty-six warheads to track and detonate.

  Twenty-one of the Machine icons dropped from the plot, destroyed or damaged to the point where they lost all grabber units. Twelve more shifted in a way that indicated a near enough miss that had kicked them with a blast wave.

  Not really the return I wanted, thought the Admiral, concentrating on the other players in the plot. The second wave of ninety-six missiles, the look at me formation, was now thirty-one minutes from impact, traveling at point seven two light. They would be attacking at point eight-nine light, or, with the closing speed of the Machine ships, as close to light speed as it was possible to measure. Nguyen’s missile wave, almost two hundred weapons, was coming in from the side at an angle, playing catch up. They would be closing at about point three eight light, making them easy targets for counter fire

  “Order the Rock to fire whatever wormhole missiles are in the pipeline,” ordered the Admiral, looking over at the Tactical Officer with a raised eyebrow.

  “Three tubes, ma’am.”

  “Launch those, and fire al
l the pods.”

  “What about the onboard missiles, ma’am?”

  “We’ll hold them for counter missile deployment,” she ordered, watching the plot as the thirty wormhole launched missiles came out of their launch port from the Rock, while the nine hundred and sixty icons of the pod launched missiles appeared. The wormhole missiles were already moving at point nine five light, and would once again make a ballistic approach. Now that the Machines knew about them, they might be able to find them through active radar or lidar some seconds before they lit their grabber units. The pod launched missiles were already carrying the momentum of the launching ships, but did not benefit from the acceleration tubes that ship launched weapons started off with. Still, they would come in at a good closing speed, hopefully enough to generate some hits.

  “Enemy weapons impact in seventeen minutes,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  “Fire off first volley of ship launched weapons, targeted on those weapons,” she ordered the Tactical Officer.

  A moment later the vibrations of the acceleration tube launches went softly through the floor, the battleship firing a volley that would reach the enemy weapons while they were still eight minutes out. From there they would decide on further launches, and hope they could kill most of those weapons before they got into range.

  The Admiral took one more look at the plot, a small smile on her face. The enemy thought they had seen everything she had. And the enemy was wrong. They were about to enter another kill zone that they knew nothing about. She looked over at the Klassekian tech who was on the com board beside the officer in charge.

  “Send a signal to the attack craft. They are to coordinate their strike with the enemy entry into the mine field.”

  The signal went out through the Klassekian, to a sibling in the command center, and from there through other sibling groups to the techs aboard the attack craft. It was instantaneous, and there was no way to intercept it. The first the Machines would know anything would be when the flank attack went in.

  * * *

  Commander Mariquell Beaumont had always wanted a command of her own. And she had finally gotten one. Not just one, but fifty fast attack craft, with six hundred officers and enlisted assigned. Not really what she had wanted, coming up as she had through the weapons section of Exploration Command battle cruisers, finally getting charge of all beams weapons on one of those craft. But the offer had been made, along with a guaranteed promotion, and so she had transferred to the mosquito fleet.

  The attack craft were not really the standard design, the attempt being made to build more of them and the missiles needed to arm them, with the resources on hand. They had smaller crews than normal, due to the lack of personnel to man them. Their shields were slightly less powerful, as was their ability to accelerate. It was unknown what effects these would have on their combat capabilities, but Beaumont was sure it wouldn’t improve them.

  She sat on the small bridge of the ten thousand ton warship with her four person command crew, which included a pilot, weapon’s tech, com tech and sensor tech. All were human with the exception of the com tech, who was one of the Klassekians. Also aboard were a three person engineering team and four other ratings, including a crew chief who was a CPO. The ship was armed with bow and stern laser rings, both in the hundred megawatt range, and a nose mounted particle beam. Each carried eight counter missiles for defense, and could be configured with either four cruiser class missiles or six of the destroyer variety. All of these were armed with canister mounted cruiser class missiles in the ninety-five ton range.

  The ships had been on ballistic approach to catch the enemy in the flank at the proper moment. Heavily stealthed, beaming all of their waste heat in microwaves away from any possible enemy sensor, their energy absorbing skin made them almost invisible under all but the most powerful of radar or lidar scans.

  “Orders from the Admiral, ma’am,” said Janestrat Kannesta. “We are to engage the enemy from the flank in concert with the mine field they are about to enter.”

  Beaumont looked at the plot, which showed the Machine force only minutes away from the one hundred mines that had been placed in their path. And the Admiral wants us to attract their attention away from those mines.

  The mines were one hundred and fifty ton capital ship missiles, which were housed in one hundred ton launchers that had the same kind of stealth technology as the fast attack craft. Unless they were subject to a powerful sensor scan they would not be detected until they were within light seconds of the target. Their launchers would only give them a slight bit of acceleration, after which the missiles would hit fifteen thousand gravities acel for less than a minute. But most of the closing speed would be generated by the Machine vessels that were already speeding along at point six light.

  “Go,” ordered the Commander, looking at her Pilot, then over at Kannesta. The signal went out to all the ships, and within seconds all fifty craft were accelerating forward at seven hundred and fifty gravities.

  “Time to launch, two minutes,” called out the Weapon’s Tech.

  “Time to enemy entry to mine field launch window?” asked the Commander.

  “Four minutes, twelve seconds,” called out the Tech.

  “Enemy is launching counter missiles, ma’am,” said the Sensor Tech as the plot bloomed with the icons of small objects, in the thirty ton range, accelerating their way.

  Beaumont grunted her reply. Against any other opponent they would have expected that they would be targeted by full sized missiles, and not weapons that were intended to take out other missiles.

  “They think we are missiles ourselves, just like their oversized weapons,” she said in a quiet voice. “And won’t they be surprised when we launch our own weapons.”

  “Time to launch, thirty seconds,” called out the Weapon’s Tech.

  “All ships are cleared to launch at firing point,” ordered Beaumont, glancing from Weapon’s Tech to the Com Specialist.

  The plot was showing over five hundred of the enemy counter missiles heading toward them, ten weapons for each of her ships. That seemed like overkill in the current equation, but things were about to change.

  “Firing,” called out the Weapon’s Tech, as the ship shuddered for a moment, releasing two of its missiles. The pair of ninety-five ton weapons shot ahead at ten thousand gravities on a vector that would intersect the front of the enemy force in three minutes. Seconds later the small spaceship shook again, and another pair of missiles were on the way. The two hundred missiles headed out, on a course that would pass the incoming counter weapons in about a minute.

  More counter missiles launched from the Machine ships, while a number of their counters already on the way retasked to take on the incoming missiles that the computer brains now realized were the primary threat.

  Missiles and counter missiles flared in space, hits and near misses generating multiple hundreds of megatons of blast and radiation as antimatter warheads detonated. One hundred and ten missiles carried through, while two hundred and thirty-one of the counters continued to go after the fast attack ships.

  The fast attack craft started firing their own counters, moments later following up with beam weapons. Less than a score of the Machine counters got through, and seven of the fast attack craft disappeared from the plot.

  Beaumont gasped as she watched the ships of her command take losses. On a battle cruiser, hits by weapons like this would have caused minor damage. Lives still would have been lost, but not the entire crew of that vessel. Fast attack craft were quick, hard hitting, and fragile, and now she was about to learn what would happen when they got within beam range of major warships.

  Fifteen of their missiles got through to final attack range of the Machine ships. All but one were taken out by beam weapons, which went off in a near miss proximity kill, heavily damaging that ship. The Commander slammed her hand on her chair arm, anger flaring that she had lost so many vessels for such little return.

  And then the real primary th
reat fired, as the mines released from less than two light seconds from their targets. One hundred capital ship missiles left their launchers, the activity immediately visible to the Machines, which sprang into action. The missiles acquired their targets and engaged their grabbers, shaving microseconds from their time of impact. They were too close for counters to be launched, while beams only had a little more than a second to target and fire. Half of the missiles were still destroyed, while a quarter hit targets with kinetic and antimatter blasts that shattered Machine ships. When the explosions cleared, there were only seven Machine ships left on approach to the inner system.

  The fast attack craft swept through the formation, trading beam weapons with several million ton warships. They caused some damage to the Machines, while losing another eleven of their number. Beaumont was one of the casualties, her first real command her last.

  * * *

  “That’s the last of them, Admiral,” called out the Tactical Officer as the final enemy missile flared on the plot and disappeared.

  Bednarczyk looked over her casualty figures, showing no emotion, while at the same time crying inside at the deaths of her people. One light cruiser and a destroyer had been total losses with all hands, while one of the battleships had taken some damage. The Rock had taken a number of hits, with damage to the metallic shell of the ship, but none to the battle cruiser that was at its heart. It had served its purpose, attracting missiles that would have destroyed other ships in the force.

  “The enemy is radiating grav waves,” called out the Sensor Officer.

  “Which one?” asked the Admiral

  “All of the surviving ships, ma’am. I think they’re transmitting to ships of theirs out in the dark.”

  “Missile impact in ten seconds,” called out the Tactical Officer.

  Almost a thousand missiles were on final approach to the remaining Machines ships, which were cycling counters at a furious rate. It didn’t matter, as the counters took out less than fifteen percent of the incoming, with lasers taking out another five percent. When it was over all of the remaining Machine vessels were clouds of spreading plasma, while over six hundred missiles continued on toward the outer system.

 

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