The Syracuse Deception

by T. S. Williams

  In Dreadnought’s CIC, Magnus continued to study the Tactical plot intently. The classic black background showed just one friendly green dot representing Cloud base diminishing as they moved away. Bainham was running all kinds of filters and processes, but Camperdown’s bogeys remained stubbornly hidden.

  The thick cloud of Vespin’s atmosphere drank in energy emissions. The light from Lidar couldn’t travel far. Dreadnought’s mass detector was swamped by the huge gas giant below. Systems that were excelled in the vacuum of space, were near useless.

  Magnus had never felt so blind in combat before. He couldn’t for the life of him work out how the less technologically developed Lakedaemian forces had found Cloud base in this maelstrom. Vespin should have been the perfect hiding spot.

  A contact appeared out of the darkness. It was like a lit match in a dark room. It was moving fast. Far too fast to be a ship. Bainham called out a warning, but was beaten by Dreadnought's automated systems. The threat was classified, plotted and a maser turret burned it down, barely in time.

  The warhead cooked off so close, the ship shook in the turbulence of it’s demise. In space, even near misses rarely shook the ship. The atmosphere transmitted the blast wave as vacuum never could. Electromagnetic pulses also travelled better. All across the outer hull, exposed systems tripped out. Maser turrets, sensors, drive field projectors all dropped offline for a brief instant before reboot.

  The whole crew felt butterflies in their stomachs as their whole six point eight million tonne ship free fell for forty metres.

  The drive management software brought the propulsion fields back up quickly. Sensor feeds however, were slower to return. Magnus watched the CIC freeze. Even the data link to Cloud base was interrupted. Magnus almost felt his throat freeze up, but he managed to force out the words “Tactical, decoy rounds, blind launch along the line of incoming fire”.

  Benbow at Tactical froze for an instant. Magnus watched as Chief Bryant pushed him aside. Her fingers over the fire control console, no grace, but plenty of speed. Missiles leapt away from the ship.

  The instant Magnus was sure Dreadnought could manoeuvre again he called out “Flight, evasive roll and climb hard”, but Greg Jones hadn’t waited for orders, the ship was already altering course.

  The CIC Tactical plot updated just in time to see three more incoming shots decoyed off their flight path. Magnus sagged against his chair in relief. Across CIC, the same reaction was shared by the more experienced crew.

  After relief, followed recrimination. Magnus blamed himself for not realising how vulnerable they were to near misses at so low an altitude. The gas giant’s fearsome magnetosphere was a fertile field for EMP and the atmosphere propagated a blast wave like a vacuum never could. Finally Magnus’ emotional roller coaster settled. There’d be no more cheap shots taken at his ship.

  Heisenberg leaned in as close as her safety harness allowed, her voice a whisper “Skipper, I’ve started a Tactical over-watch, if he freezes again, I’ll take over”. Magnus nodded. The XO’s console morphed into a duplicate of the Tactical post.

  The CIC display updated, a probability cloud sprung up over the area of incoming fire, marking the volume of aerospace their tormentors could be working in.

  Magnus ran his eyes round the CIC crew, he saw Benbow, red faced and shaken at Tactical. Magnus could almost read his thoughts, a mirror of Magnus’ own. Benbow was now compounding his mistake of freezing up under fire with a spiral of self-recrimination. Magnus reached out to bring him back “Tactical, I want to fire back. Give me options”.

  Sub-Lieutenant Benbow shook his head, like he was clearing a fog “We’d be firing blind, Skipper”.

  Magnus replied “So how do we see?”. Chief Bryant was a steadying presence at Benbow’s side, “We take off the blindfold. Recon drones. Get em out now before our decoys run out of power” she said. Benbow nodded, his own mind catching on the idea “Better yet, we send out two stage missiles for endurance. Load each with four active sensor heads networked together” his eyes light up “A big net to catch our fish”.

  Magnus nodded “Nice idea, launch when ready”.

  Benbow nodded and muttered a brief “Aye, Skipper”. Magnus could tell from the speed and grace of Benbow’s fingers over the controls, the danger of him freezing again had receded. The tension in CIC dropped, as the crew took comfort in having a plan.

  Benbow looked up after a few seconds, “Recon round away. It’ll start pulsing at fifty click separation”. Magnus nodded, his face a mask over the knot in his gut “Tactical, noted! Flight, one-hundred-and-three degree turn, hard to port, make us hard to find”.

  Chapter 32

  In Frankenstein’s CIC, Cartwright reviewed Cloud base’s latest sit rep. The situation inside the ship lock had grown desperate. The shared jubilation at pushing the boarders back onto their ship had was gone. Replaced by anguish as Apollonius’ reactors overloaded.

  Cartwright sat in Frankenstein’s command chair, pondering the hard choice ahead. The curse of command was to sit and think whilst others did the work you directed. Anyone who looked upon her at that moment would have seen a picture of professional calm. Inside, her belly fluttered as she imagined the worst-case scenario of her plans and the horrific price of success. Despite everything, she felt just a bit happier than last time she had commanded a starship. Cartwright took a deep breath and said “Comms, tell Admiral Camperdown I can save Cloud base”.

  After a few seconds the Admiral’s face appeared on screen “What have you got for me Lieutenant?” he said brusquely.

  “Arriving in your mind’s eye now, Admiral” Cartwright replied.

  Camperdown glanced away for a second then looked back “Summarise for me, Lieutenant”.

  “We use Frankenstein’s drive fields like a cork in a bottle” she paused to let that sink in, then continued “That should stop Cloud base losing buoyancy”.

  “Sub-Commander Llewellyn thinks that will wreck Ship Lock Two” Camperdown interjected.

  “Probably” she replied tersely.

  “The Paras won’t have time to pull back” said Camperdown matter of factly.

  “Correct, Sir” said Cartwright, matching his tone.

  “Get it done the Lieutenant” Camperdown ended the transmission before she could say anything further.

  Cartwright glanced over at the Engineering post. There was a flurry of activity as her crew struggled to make the changes she demanded. She’d asked for something quite unorthodox.

  Next to Cartwright on the command level of CIC, Admiral Hecate contemplated the harsh logic of survival. Hecate knew deep down she was ruthless. She would risk her own life when needed, so she didn’t consider herself evil. Hecate had thought that Lieutenant Cartwright was yet another pampered Laurentian, who couldn’t make the hard choices. Having just seen the exchange between Camperdown and Cartwright, Hecate would admit that Cartwright was made of stone.

  If Cartwright had been able to step outside and view the bow of her ship, she’d have seen the streamlined curve had changed, as the hull’s teardrop shape changed. Ship armour was designed with three layers. First, the outer surface could vary between the deepest black for stealth or mirror finish to reflect weapons fire. Second, the ablative layer that boiled off, robbing incoming shots of their energy. It prevented damage to more delicate structure and systems beneath it. The third innermost layer was shock absorbing. Cartwright had directed Frankenstein’s self-repair capillaries be used to thicken third layer of bow armour. The ship needed to withstand a greater than normal shock.

  Major Sharp wanted to gnash his teeth in frustration, or chew his way through Apollonius’ hull, which at least would have been more productive. Every attempt to penetrate beyond the inner doors of Apollonius’ air locks had been repulsed. The Blighted Lakedaemians now had the defender’s advantage and they were using it mercilessly. Short range coil gun rounds and grenade blasts were throwing Laurentians straight back out of air lock hatches or choking the vestibul
es with the dead. He’d run out of sacrificial drones and reinforcements had yet to arrive. He looked up at Sergeant Augustine, his old friend. The brother-in-arms who’d, decades ago, taken a newly minted Ensign Sharp and coached, cajoled and kicked him into the battle hardened Major. Maybe it was right they die together today.

  Sharp nodded at Augustine. No words, no mind’s eye message was necessary. They turned and advanced as one. Round after round came at them, he saw Augustine go down to a knee, then rise again and scramble forward past what little cover remained. Fellow survivors fell in, some firing as they advanced. The last hammer blow of the 95th.

  In Cloud base Operations, Admiral Camperdown, sat in his command chair, his arms folded. The Operations staff around him communed with their controls, desperately doing their part to save their base. He only got to stare at the sit rep display. He could see Sharp’s last charge, he could see Frankenstein’s efforts to solve the same problem. Neither had high chance of success and time was nearly out. The Apollonius’ purposefully overburdened reactors could let go at any second, destroying Cloud base and her inhabitants.

  Camperdown prayed, he didn’t know to what or whom. But he prayed never the less.

  High above, onboard the Dreadnought, the CIC crew felt their stomachs flutter again. Brutal nuclear explosions rocked the battlecruiser and the accompanying EMP waves caused the drive field projectors to reset yet again. The resulting plummet was short lasting compared to the anxiety it produced.

  Jones at Flight called out “Turn complete, Skipper”. The next barrage detonated much further away from the ship. There wasn’t even a rumble. Magnus didn’t have time to acknowledge. He was too busy issuing more instructions “Tactical, the rest of those recon drones ready yet?”.

  Benbow didn’t look up, but his finger slammed down on the launch control. Another flight of smart missiles shot forth from Dreadnought's spinal launcher, their precious payload would provide Dreadnought more eyes in the sky. Beside Benbow, Bryant played nursemaid, desperate to maximise the new recon drones performance.

  Their unseen nemesis lashed out again. But Dreadnought was heading away from the incoming shots now and her masers turrets had time to burn them down.

  Magnus seizing an opportunity to strike back, barked out “Return fire, bracket pattern”. Four smart missiles rushed away. After thirty seconds, contact was lost, four seconds after that, detonation was detected.

  The result was unknown, but no one had expected it to be that easy. Dreadnought’s crew settled back into nervous anticipation.

  Bainham was hunched over his post, sweat dripping off his scrunched up forehead. He hadn’t managed a good lock on Dreadnought’s nemesis since they’d exited Cloud base. Normally Laurentian ships had a technological edge across the board. The distances for aerospace combat where poultry compared to the interplanetary theatre that starship combat was more usually played out.

  A washed out thermal signature appeared far above and a couple of hundred kilometres back along Dreadnought’s flightpath. Much further down, at the top of the gas and liquid boundary, more heat sources flared up. They gained speed fast, bright fireworks against the atmosphere’s fog. More missiles. Bainham called out “Vampire, Vampire, Vampire” in warning then watched despairingly as the contact plot updated. This was the biggest flight so far. He turned, wanting to add something meaningful, but knowing he could add nothing. Instead Bainham willed Commander Magnus to pull another rabbit from his hat.

  Magnus seemed to pause thoughtfully, then “Flight, bow down three-three degrees, drive to the red line” it wasn’t loud but whole CIC was still collectively hold its breath, Magnus continued “Tactical, fission warheads, tune for EMP airburst, five rounds, rapid fire”.

  Dreadnought barrelled out of the sky, as dark angels hurled lightning bolts in her wake. Fortunately, the attack spent itself impotently on empty cloud. Temporarily safe, Magnus watched the progress of their own counter attack on CIC’s main display.

  Benbow’s warheads separated from their missiles and tried to find their illusive prey. As the eye burning blasts died off, their efforts were rewarded with a new attack. One that seemed too numerous to survive.

  This time Magnus could only watch in fear, until he realised the shots weren’t aimed at Dreadnought. Someone was shooting at their tormentor.

  The CIC crew shared a blood rush of exultation as certain defeat faded away. The question on everyone’s lips, who was their saviour?

  In Frankenstein's CIC, Cartwright sat finger poised over one simple go/no go command flashing up before her as a green button. She took a breath, then another, then without further thought, her finger brushed her control panel and the ship eased forward.

  The Cloud base had passed over authority for ship lock two’s inner door. In tandem with Frankenstein advancing, the door peeled back to reveal the Apollonius' tortured bow. Cartwright and her crew all felt the impact as Frankenstein's reprofiled bow struck the Apollonius dead on and deformed, both ships were now locked together. Frankenstein pushed on, driving Apollonius towards the outer doors. Cloud base tilted to ease the passage, letting Vespin’s gravity snatch at both ships.

  Cartwright watched CIC’s main screen anxiously. She saw tiny black dots of paratroopers leaping desperately from the Apollonius towards the decks or bulkheads of the ship lock. She tried to tell herself, most would escape what was to come, but that suspension of belief never really took hold.

  Cartwright’s biggest contribution to the plan have been to alter the Frankenstein’s drive field. It now expanded as she had intended and sealed against ship lock two’s surface. The outer doors could now open without endangering Cloud base. She watched them iris open, hoping her plan would work. There had been no opportunity for a test. In a cloud of dust and sparks, both ships left the solidity of Cloud base and fell unsupported towards Vespin’s brutal ocean.

  At the Flight post, Wrigglesworth was hammering his controls trying to separate from Apollonius. It would appear that Cartwright’s modifications stopped Frankenstein’s drive working in open space. In the back of her mind’s eye she sensed her grandfather’s electronic presence. He was raiding every last shred of processing capacity onboard to reformat the drive software, undoing Cartwright’s modifications by brute force.

  Cartwright watched the altimeter spin down on her display and glanced to her left. Admiral Hecate was doing an admirable impression of an ice sculpture. Cartwright idly wondered if you had to be at least a little admirable, to be an Admiral.

  With a shudder and a groan that must have travelled the length of the ship, the drive field reset as the two ships separated. Frankenstein starting clawing her way back into the sky. The Apollonius impacted on the grim sea below and broke apart. Aboard Frankenstein, Cartwright watched as the remnants sank beneath the waves, in anachronistic fashion. Deep in the Vespin’s liquid layer, Apollonius’ tortured reactors finally exploded.

  Cartwright couldn’t resisted the urge to fist pump. The CIC crew cheered. Even Hecate managed a smile and offered her hand.

  Aboard Dreadnought, confusion reigned. Their mystery saviour couldn’t possibly be the Frankenstein because the new ship seemed to be riding through the atmosphere on a column of blinding light. Only a torch drive would produce such a display. Their tormentor redirected its venom toward the newcomer, unleashing a barrage in return.

  Magnus avoided the urge to leap from his chair, instead he folded his fingers round the armrests and took advantage of the respite “Flight, get us bow on for the enemy and close the distance fast”, he continued without pause “Sensors, find me a target.”.

  The violent contest continued, each time the attacker looked to cease fire and disappear into the clouds, their saviour pumped out another missile barrage. Finally, one round lit up Dreadnought’s nemesis, clear as day. Magnus felt a spike of exultation as he called out “Target that explosion and fire”. Benbow slammed the fire control panel and five vengeful streaks rushed towards their nemesis.

  Bainha
m at Sensors felt guilty interrupting the moment of reprisal “Skipper, I’m getting an SOS on open channel, putting it up now”.

  The display jumped awkwardly as unfamiliar systems meshed then smoothed into the face of a harassed Imperial Officer “This is Ploiarchos Elias of HIMS Asteria, declaring an emergency. This vessel is facing imminent destruction. Our flight path is embedded in this signal”. Bainham spoke up, “The message just loops from there”.

  Magnus looked away from the screen and over to Bainham “Is our attacker still out there?”. Bainham shook his head, “I think we nailed him with those last rounds, but it’s impossible to be sure”.

  “Put their flight path up on the main display”. As the projection appeared, Magnus looked on pensively.

  Chapter 33

  Magnus called out “Flight, can we rendezvous with Asteria?”, weighing his options.

  Jones nodded back “Yes, but we won’t have long. Asteria isn’t accelerating hard enough for a stable orbit. She’ll only stay clear of Vespin’s atmosphere for less than an hour”.

  “How much less?” Magnus pressed. Jones shrugged “Sorry Skipper, too many variables”.

  Magnus looked unhappy, but grunted a grudging acceptance “Bainham, I don’t care how you do it, get in direct contact with Asteria. Find out how they found our attacker so easily. We can’t afford to be stabbed in the back whilst trying a rescue”.

  Bainham nodded and got to work. Intermittently, he paused and swear. After a few minutes of perspiration building on his brow, he looked up “I can’t get through, Skipper. Too much interference”.

  “Flight, get us on a least time intercept course” Magnus brusquely ordered. If Cloud base was to be secured for the long term, he had to find out how their attackers and mysterious helper could see so much better in Vespin’s atmosphere than the Laurentians could.