Now she’d met him in person she’d found him almost entirely unremarkable, bar one trait. He was impossible to read. Her particular psy-talents normally opened a mind up like a garden in bloom for her to stroll through at her leisure. Without the mundane mark one eye ball, she wouldn’t even know he was there. During her training, she’d met experienced teachers who could achieve the same inscrutable state, but it came with vast effort and would only last for minutes.
In the hours since she had come aboard, his mind had not opened once, not even as he’d brainstormed with his crew how’d they’d overcome the Blight squadron blocking their escape.
As the minutes wore away the tension in the room escalated. She’d sat through the planning but found the talk of perihelion, apogees, detection ranges and atmospheric densities to be far beyond the astronomic education spies required. She broadly understood Magnus’s strategy, but the tactics he’d use remained a mystery.
Dreadnought decelerated fiercely over the last million kilometres to orbit. Her efforts to remain undetected ceased in the process. Heat poured off her drive field emitters, lighting her up like a vengeful Christmas tree to anything that cared to look. The Blight was capable of great intelligence, when grouped together, but it suffered from tunnel vision below a critical mass.
The Blight ships in low orbit over Salmis four detected her first. But in combat, timing, was everything. Orbital mechanics dragged them round the curve of the planet before they could use their weapons. Even if they changed altitude significantly to reduce the time period of their orbit, they’d be unable to interfere with Dreadnought’s mission for a few hours. To add to their woes, a flight of Bainham’s smart missiles chased after them.
With one set of hostile contacts out of play, Magnus crisply progressed the operation “Mr Benbow, bring in the tail”. The delicate sensor system was drawn back into the hull, like a spider eating its own web. It would not have survived what came next.
Athena flicked her eyes across Magnus’ command displays. Navigation showed the altitude above Salmis four was dropping at an alarming rate. Glancing at the Engineering display showed the drive field was at maximum with no reserve.
Salmis four had shielded Dreadnought’s approached from the Blight ships over Salmis four’s moon and now it would provide one last advantage.
Magnus gave his next order “Cartwright, rig the hull for reflection please.” Viewed from the outside, Dreadnought’s hull rippled as it abandoned the coal black cloak and replaced it with a silvery mirror shine.
The ship started to shake, gently at first. But it kept building. She’d never known a starship to shake before. Then a few ominous creaks reverberated across CIC. She started to sweat, as if the temperature had risen ten degrees. Across CIC, most of the faces she could see revealed typical stress tell-tales.
The tension finally got to her. She hated to show weakness to strangers, but her curiosity and a sliver of fear overpowered her, as nonchalantly as possible she said “Magnus, are we too close to that planet?”.
He glanced across from the tactical display, He muttered a reply “No. If anything we are too far away”.
He then looked down at Greg Jones “Mr Jones, on this course, we’re going to bottom out in the exosphere. Your promised me angels eighty and not a metre more. Dive, man!”.
Dreadnought streaked across Salmis four’s upper atmosphere rounding the horizon in a glorious shower of lightening like God’s own finger to her enemies. Above her, travelling much faster, Bainham’s remaining flights of smart missiles overhauled her and continued on towards the moon and the Blight ships above.
Dreadnought’s newest and most difficult targets appeared ahead of her from round the planet.
Salmis four’s moon orbited some four hundred thousand kilometres above the planet itself. The jump point lay between these two astronomical bodies, at the point of gravitational stability.
Two powerful frigates orbited a few hundred kilometres ahead of the jump point. Each was clearly from a much higher tech base than most of the Blight Squadron. There was no sign of primitive reaction drives or large fuel tanks. They appeared lean, hungry. In a stand-up fight, Dreadnought could take them. But this wasn’t a stand-up fight. They wouldn’t be swatted aside so easily.
All those frigates had to do was hold him off long enough to jump out and come back with reinforcements. If they had enough friends nearby they could overwhelm even the mighty Dreadnought, just as they had the Lycurgus and her battle group before.
Benbow at the tactical post had started running firing solutions for both ships the instant Dreadnought cleared the atmosphere. He had reams of historical data gathered from the sensor tail as Dreadnought had approached Salmis four. He also had real time data from Bainham’s smart missile barrage on route for their lunar targets.
Magnus spoke out again, the undercurrent of satisfaction tangible “Mr Benbow, burn my sky clean”.
Benbow had been waiting for the order. The anticipation was almost too much. He just about managed to avoid theatrically banging his hand down on the large red fire control, instead tapping it a little too heavily for just one finger tip. He felt the bruise forming, but managed to avoid waving it or blowing on it.
The Blighted ships had impressive reaction times, a cloud of energy absorbing particles spilled out of the frigates as soon as they detected Dreadnought’s spectacular arrival. Such a defence only works if you didn’t move, but Blight needed to run.
Twin gamma ray beams burst from Dreadnought’s bow. Where the beams touched stray particles, they fluoresced. Where they struck ship’s hulls, they burned.
The first shots burnt away the protective cloud, the frigates returned fire in the instant before the angry energy devoured their hulls. A few flights of Blighted missiles burst forth from the frigates as they endured death throes. The first ship's bow just vaporised leaving a lifeless powerless hulk and a cloud of debris trailing in it’s wake.
The second frigate was struck repeatedly across it’s whole length, before it burst apart. Benbow clenched his fists together in vicious celebration before following the ancient military tradition of proudly reporting the bloody obvious “Two bandits down, Skipper”.
Magnus barely had time to watch the result of his attack. Blighted missiles accelerated towards him ship. They had a flight time of less than two minutes and Dreadnought’s defences needed preparation. He murmured to himself “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war”.
Strapped in her seat nearby, Athena had gotten over her nervousness at Dreadnought’s striking transit, now she was angry, with nothing to smack. When she heard Magnus, she could only grimace inside at his melodramatic streak.
“Tactical, get smart missiles up in shield formation between us and the incoming rounds”.
The mid-ship launchers spun up and began raining out war shots.
“Sensors, firm up those intercepts”. Heisenberg had anticipated the order by seconds. Sensors that had retracted across the hull, now glided back into position as Dreadnought’s armour liquefied and slid aside before reforming.
“Pilot, full deceleration. Give our missiles time to work”.
The defensive smart missile salvo sliced into their targets. Blasts of shrapnel, microwave pulses and blast damage washed over the incoming fire. Some were destroyed, some disabled. A few continued on towards Dreadnought.
“Tactical, go to close in weapons. Hold further missile launches”.
Across the ship, Maser turrets slid up through the hull, sighted on the incoming rounds and opened fire.
From his post Benbow called out “Skipper, we have two vampires in terminal range. Approach in ten seconds, approaching from the bow”.
Before Magnus could open his mouth with new orders, Greg Jones flicked his hands across the helm controls, Dreadnought cancelled her deceleration, leaping forward along her orbital track. In perfect synchronisation, Jones added roll and yaw to the manoeuvre.
Dreadnought spun, immediately presenting many m
ore Maser turrets to the incoming threat. Both Blight missiles were cooked off dramatically a few hundred kilometres short, allowing Dreadnought to dive theatrically between the explosions.
Chapter 8
Armstrong awoke in the command chair of Dreadnought’s assault shuttle, delta-two, just in time for the telemetry link with her mother ship to be restored.
Armstrong, was a foot soldier at heart. He was happier onboard a cold, black shuttle crossing interplanetary space headed for a hostile landing, far more than he was riding a battlecruiser diving through a planet’s atmosphere.
The tactical display showed the flight of smart missiles launched with delta-two remained on target. The Blighted ships orbiting Salmis Four’s moon were still in a search formation sweeping over the landing zone for escaping shuttles from the Lycurgus.
Dreadnought’s missile barrage would fire up their second stages soon to allow for guidance corrections before their terminal attack manoeuvres.
He turned back to the bigger picture. He watched the delta-two’s sensors as Dreadnought burnt a straight line of fire through Salmis four’s mesosphere. It looked spectacular as hell, whether anyone lived to tell the tale was an unanswered question.
He turned his mind back to the job at hand. Ahead four low tech destroyer sized ships fired up their reaction drives, separating and changing orbits. Trying to desperately manoeuvre away from their attackers.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
Without any interference from Armstrong, Dreadnought’s missile barrage separated into four flights and ran straight at each ship, popping out from behind their drive plumes at the last second before slamming home like sledge hammers into eggshells. The wrecks tumbled over the horizon as delta-two prepped itself to land.
Armstrong’s mind’s eye informed he’d received a voice communication from Heisenberg. There was too little time for a two-way link. He could feel the deceleration. Despite his combat suit he felt like an elephant had sat on his chest. Dreadnought had a huge amount of mass available for para-gravity and inertial dampers, barely a tenth of a percent of her true acceleration ever leaked through. The assault shuttle, whilst still a significant ten thousand tonnes, had far less capacity to mask its movements. He was only feeling half of the forces on him, but it was enough.
He opened the message directly in his mind’s eye, trying to ignore the rough handling his body was receiving. She was clearly elated. “Shuttle delta two. The plan worked. Dreadnought’s knocked down two frigates and taken the jump point. There’s one remaining Blight ship formation. They’re hours away on the other side of Salmis four, so make your search quick. Dreadnought out”.
The moon had a wisp thin atmosphere, it would have been useless for the kind of aerobraking manoeuvre used by Dreadnought. Instead the shuttle’s engines were slowing it down enough to touch down in just a few minutes. That would hopefully be close enough to whatever remained of Lycurgus’ crew to rescue them for blast off and return.
Armstrong used his mind’s eye to order out smart missiles in a search pattern around delta-two’s flight path as she dropped below ten thousand metres. A web of sensor returns sprang up across the tactical display.
Behind Armstrong and to his left, Lincoln sat strapped into his seat, tweaking the flocks of smart missiles as they spread out towards the horizon to continue the search.
Thresher dismounted from his seat and proceeded down to the drone bay. Combat drones of all shapes and sizes had been locked in place for flight. None of the aero-drones were any use in the moon’s thin atmosphere. The fast dog drones might well help survey any crash site and search any geological features. The large tracked drones at the back were only useful for heavy combat. A few medium sized personnel transports resided in a bay to the right. He powered up all the dog drones and two personnel transports. They all were configured for maximum endurance and minimum offense.
Armstrong walked over to the armoury, collected his personal weapons and added a thruster pack. Speed was now more important than stealth. The leaps and bounds it allowed let humans travel far faster than on foot.
As delta-two settled on the ground, Thresher received an update from Lincoln. The Lycurgus’ shuttle had landed over a ridge line three kilometres away. No answer was received to communications on known Lakedaemian frequencies. No general SOS was being transmitted either.
Delta-two’s hangar bay equalised with the piteous atmosphere outside, then the ramp lowered. Smart missiles fed live images of the Lycurgus’ shuttle back to Thresher and Armstrong, onboard a personnel transport as it rolled over the ridge line towards it’s goal. The aerial survey had picked out foot prints in the regolith around the shuttle. A group numbering ten to fifteen people had left the crash site travelling together. Their destination appeared to be a nearby cave.
Armstrong glimpsed the mission clock counting down in corner of his mind’s eye. Lincoln had reported finding the Lycurgus’ shuttle back to Dreadnought. Heisenberg had relayed Commander Magnus’ deadline for lift off and return to Dreadnought. She’d also added that Dreadnought had lost track of the remaining Blight ships behind Salmis four. Dreadnought had sent out several waves of smart missiles to reconnoitre the far side of the planet, but if they slipped into a polar orbit, they could appear suddenly. Armstrong and his small team were on borrowed time.
The regolith churned under the tracks of the personnel transport as it sped on. Armstrong sent the dog drones on ahead. Their fast loping gait covered the ground far quicker than his clumsy ride.
He sent some of them over towards the Lycurgus’ shuttle and redirected the rest towards the entrance of the cave to begin scouting for survivors.
The personnel transport crossed over the ridge line shortly after. The rift valley floor laid out before him, looked like a giant’s slide. One squad of dog drones had followed a footprint trail to the base of steep hillock in the middle of the valley near the shuttle. The other squad had set about infiltrating the abandoned shuttle. As they closed in, a demolition charge detonated. The shuttle burst apart, debris flew for half a kilometre in all directions. Both paras ducked instinctively.
The personnel transport rang like a bell. A metre-long compressor fan blade lodged itself in the forward armoured glacis.
“Well” said Thresher, angrily, “These guys really want to be marooned here. Maybe we should just leave em to it”.
As the transport approached the hillock, Armstrong ordered the remaining scouts to enter, while setting up a data relay, moving deeper and deeper into the case there.
Armstrong left the scout’s telemetry to an expert program in his mind’s eye and prepared to dismount. His kit was in order. He had his usual favourites, a coil pistol, a maser carbine and a shoulder mounted smart missile launcher.
The dog drones rushed ahead like eager hunters as he and Lincoln entered the cave mouth.
There were more foot prints leading deeper. The cave developed into a twisting tube. His line of sight never extended beyond fifty metres and his paranoia spiked in anticipation.
He switched to passive sensors and let the recon pack attract all the attention. He rerouted his rescue broadcast through the lead recon drone. His own voice ran on in the back of his mind, endlessly looping through a message of peace, first aid and a lift back to civilisation.
After far too long spelunking, the dog drones found the cave widened abruptly. The new space was big enough for passive sensors to fail to detect the far wall.
Well behind the dog drones, Armstrong stepped out into a larger cavern. His suit sensors identified a kinetic round as it flew past him and smacked into the tunnel wall. Thresher was further back out of sight. The ricochet whistled over his head as he dived to the ground.
The next shots flashed out, connecting with several of the dog drones. Some of them were hit along armour plating, causing more ricochets. Others took hits to sensors or actuators and collapsed like stringless puppets to the floor. Then out of the darkness, shooting stars appeared overhead. Thruster
s for much bulkier heavier armour than he wore.
The four heavy armour suits slammed into the ground using the dog drones to break their fall where possible. Armstrong broadcast continually, even as the suited figures ripped and shot and hacked his drones to pieces. They seemed unable or unwilling to come at him directly, aiming for his drones.
Finally, he cut the repeating transmission and spoke out on an open channel. “Well now you lot owe us for the lift and the hardware. My Commander will consider a flexible payment scheme”.
The four armoured figures paused as they surrounded the final dog drone. Armstrong ordered it to fall back next to him. His mind’s eye informed him, he was receiving a voice transmission. A harsh female voice rang out “This is Yponavarchos Hecate of the Lakedaemian Fleet” static crackled, “Aren’t you a little short for a paratrooper?”.
“This is Corporal Armstrong, Laurentian Paratroopers, Admiral. I’m here to rescue you. Though with that attitude, I am happy to leave you too it”. He bit down a more sarcastic response.
“My apologies, Corporal, for the unfriendly welcome” in a decidedly softer tone. “We have some concerns you are Blighted”.
“I have no idea how I prove I’m not. What I do know, is if I was Blighted, you’d already be under attack in overwhelming force by now”.
“Excellent point, Corporal. I’m prepared to accept you word. For now. I assume that was your shuttle landing. How will you get us past the Blight Squadron?”.
“Last update from my Commander in orbit was that we have clear skies, Ma’am”. His own anger had cooled enough for military courtesy to kick in “We don’t know how long that would last though”.
“There are nine of us all told, four of my personal guard and four more Officers from my flag ship”.
“Well Ma’am, I suggest you come with me if you want to live”.
The Syracuse Deception Page 6