Iron & Blood: Book Two of The Expansion Wars Trilogy

by Joshua Dalzelle

  The shuttles would fold their wings up and be pulled into the cradle where the crews would manually hook up the hard points. The flight crews for the shuttles would be arriving shortly as the port crews used tugs to maneuver the fueled and prepped drop shuttles out to the assault carrier. Once Flight OPS signed off on the loading and the pilots had gone down to do their final inspection he would be clear to get underway. He was anxious to try and beat the Fourth Fleet destroyers out of the system. They were significantly faster than the Star and he hoped that if he stuck to his original plan their arrival might still work as the diversion he would need to deploy his shuttles and try to bug out of the Juwel System without engaging the more capable enemy ships.

  “Captain,” the second watch OPS officer nodded to Jackson as he walked in. “Flight OPS is reporting that three shuttles are loaded and secured and they don’t foresee any issues with the others.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said distractedly. “Tell them I want to be lighting engines the moment we’re cleared to begin maneuvering. The shuttle pilots can check their rides as we fly out to the jump point.”

  “Aye, sir,” the lieutenant said, disapproval etched on her face as she relayed his orders. He was surrounded by people who seemed almost religiously opposed to deviating from standard procedure. Normally the pilots would leisurely go through the shuttles, drinking coffee and joking with each other. The first time Jackson had observed the procedure he became convinced the pilots actually dragged out their checks on purpose as a sort of game, knowing that the ship wouldn’t fire engines and leave orbit until they were satisfied.

  He almost wished he could indulge them since that would mean they were on a relaxed schedule and not flying into the teeth of an enemy blockade that had so far proved to be damn near impenetrable. Jackson knew that some of the officers that had flown on assault carriers their entire career weren’t all that enthusiastic about a destroyerman crashing the party and shaking up the way things had been done for generations. The readiness drills and combat exercises he ordered were met with grumbles and complaining, but the crew had started to show signs they were shaking off the lethargy he’d felt when he reported aboard the Star. Against their will, they were becoming a battle-ready crew. Even though they were much improved, Jackson was skeptical they were up to the task ahead of them. The Juwel mission would not be easy or over quickly.

  For the thousandth time he wanted to find out who had pulled the Ninth off the missions and strangle the life from them. He’d be a lot more confident if Celesta Wright was commanding the Icarus in ahead of him than he was with Ed Rawls’s squadron of Intrepid-class ships.

  6

  “Coming onto final course, Captain,” the OPS officer called out. The Aludra Star was steaming up the well away from the planet New Sierra, her engines running at full power. Unlike her destroyer escorts that were able to pull away from the planet quickly and make for their jump point, the heavily loaded assault carrier had to lumber around the planet through a series of transfer orbits before achieving enough velocity to break away and head into the outer system.

  The carrier had a unique configuration in that while it only flew normally on two main magneto-plasma drive engines the ship was fitted with four MPDs. Both nacelles that flanked the main hull had two engines each in a stacked configuration. In fact, when Jackson had been researching his new command he’d learned that the Vega-class had originally been designed with four engines in mind, but somewhere during the unusual way in which the ship had been conceived, mothballed, and then hastily finished there’d been a serious miscommunication; the cooling systems and powerplant were unable to power all four engines at the same time, at least not for very long. Instead of redesigning and fabricating new parts for the ship Tsuyo’s shipbuilders had left the two engines and renamed them as “spares,” turning a serious mistake into a “feature.”

  The hell of it was that with all four engines the carrier would have a better acceleration profile than his first Raptor-class destroyer did and would have held her own even with the more modern Starwolf-class ships. The Intrepid-class destroyers escorting him, an updated derivative design of the old Raptor-class, would have been left behind when they pushed for the jump point, not the other way around. There was an obvious tactical advantage to having the four engines but the designers and engineers made sure to put enough safeguards in so that an enterprising or panicked captain couldn’t just fire up the other two and destroy the powerplant. As it stood the only way the auxiliary engines could be fired up was if the primary MPD in that nacelle failed … of course when an MPD failed it was equally likely to take out the one sitting three meters away as not so the point was moot.

  “Captain, Flight OPS reports that all drop shuttles are inspected and signed off on by their crews,” Ensign Dole said. The first watch OPS officer was efficient, but showed a glaring lack of ambition and ingenuity. The fact he was still an ensign at all spoke volumes.

  “Very good,” Jackson said. “Inform Commander Chambliss that he is clear to do his own final inspection of the gangways, umbilicals, and hardmounts. Once he’s signed off on those you can clear him to close the drop hatches.”

  “Aye, sir,” Dole said and pulled his headset back up.

  “Coms!”

  “Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Epsen said, startled.

  “Please have the Marine detachment commander report to the bridge personally,” Jackson said. “I’d like to talk with him before we hit the jump point.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The next few hours were a flurry of activity and at one point there was even a line outside the hatchway as officers queued up to see the captain on the cramped bridge. Chief Green’s deep, harsh voice could be heard in the passageway telling people if they hadn’t been summoned or it wasn’t something vital to ship’s operation to take a hike until they transitioned into warp.

  Jackson was in the middle of discussing the quartering arrangements with the relief Marine detachment commander when three sharp blasts from klaxon alarms echoed through the ship.

  “Drop hatches closing!” Ensign Dole’s voice echoed on a slight delay over the intercom as the OPS officer cleared the areas one more time before commanding the computer to close the ship up. A few seconds later booming reverberations could be felt through the ship as the massive drop hatches swung closed and locked, the Star’s hull ringing like a bell.

  “All hatches confirmed closed and locked, Captain,” Dole said after a moment. “The Star is cleaned up and cleared for acceleration.”

  “Excellent,” Jackson said. “Helm, bring the Star to transition velocity plus five, all ahead full.”

  “All engines ahead full, aye!” the helmsman said. “On course for jump point alpha, target velocity transition plus five.” Jackson routinely liked to transition at five percent past the prescribed transition velocity from his days commanding destroyers. Even though the regulation had a cushion built into it he preferred to carry a little extra speed coming out the other side to be able to maneuver immediately before the mains were reengaged.

  Jackson shook his head with bemusement as the Star rumbled and groaned under full acceleration. She sounded like she was coming apart but the acceleration numbers were a paltry forty-five g’s. With a target velocity of just over .08c for transition it would take the ship fifty-eight hours to hit the jump point. He could bump his speed up, but with what he was now planning to do, thanks in no small part to Captain Rawls's incalcitrance, it wouldn’t matter if they arrived late to the party. Actually, it would probably be preferable.

  “Steady as she goes,” he said, standing and grabbing his coffee mug. “Ensign, you have the bridge until Commander Simmons comes on duty.”

  “I have the bridge, aye,” Dole said, then hesitated. “When is the XO due to come on watch, sir?”

  Jackson made another mental checkbox in the “negative” column regarding his OPS officer. Anybody too timid to want to be in charge of a starship within a secure Terran system while
it was just flying leisurely to a jump point just didn’t have the mettle to command. “He’ll be up shortly,” Jackson said. “He’s down briefing the drop shuttle flight crews.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jackson sighed mentally as he walked off the bridge. Back when he was an ensign he’d done anything and everything he could just for a chance at the big chair. He didn’t hold it against Dole that he had no such aspirations; some people were just naturally followers. The problem arose in that on a warship there was no guarantee that any officer serving on the bridge wouldn’t be called upon to take control of the ship in an emergency or combat situation. He’d watch his too old, too timid ensign carefully on the trip out and then make the final call before they hit the Juwel System as to whether he needed to be replaced or not.

  “Secure from warp flight, bring the RDS online,” Celesta said pensively.

  “Retracting warp emitters now, Captain,” Accari said. “RDS coming online, fifteen seconds until we’re clear to maneuver.”

  “Very good,” Celesta replied. “Tactical?”

  “Passive scans in progress now, ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Adler said. “No signals were received when we transitioned in.”

  The Icarus had just completed the extended warp flight from the DeLonges System, home of the New Sierra Platform and the new capital system of the United Terran Federation, to the meeting place that had been dictated by the Ushin. Celesta had pushed the destroyer to complete the trip in a single leg in order to hopefully get there ahead of the alien delegation. She had a passing familiarity with the planet they’d chosen as she had been there once before; it was the planet discovered by the Tsuyo deep space probes that had been their original meeting place, now simply designated UW01 and pronounced by everyone in the Fleet as Ooo-won.

  Her familiarity with navigating to the planet aside, she’d argued vehemently that CENTCOM change the venue to someplace either neutral or a system where they held a distinct advantage. She’d been curtly told that the diplomatic details were none of her concern and her only job was to get the Icarus to where it was supposed to be, when it was supposed to be there. Even though she’d ground her teeth and followed her orders she couldn’t shake the feeling they were flying into yet another trap.

  “RDS is up, ma’am,” Accari broke into her thoughts. “Engineering has cleared the Icarus to maneuver. Warp drive emitters are stowed and the hatches are secured.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Celesta stood up. “Nav! Plot us a decaying heliocentric course down into the system. I want to take advantage of the terrain so follow the pull of any planets or natural satellites in our path; the key is to try and appear as uninteresting as possible. OPS, tell CIC I want the towed array deployed once we’re underway. We’re remaining passive until I say otherwise.” After the lessons learned during the previous war the CIC on Terran warships had come into its own; it was now a true nerve center for the ship’s combat operations and not just a place to train up young officers or stash troublemakers.

  “CIC confirms the towed array is ready for immediate deployment, ma’am,” Accari said.

  “Initial course is plotted and input, Captain,” the specialist at Nav reported. “We don’t have a complete workup on this system so I’ll be making real-time adjustments as data becomes available.”

  “Very well,” Celesta said, pacing the bridge. “Helm! You’re clear to engage the RDS pod and come onto your first course. Ahead one-half.”

  “Engines ahead one-half, aye,” the helmsman said, pushing the throttles up.

  There was no sensation of movement or even a rumble of deck plates to tell her the Icarus was moving, just the acceleration and relative velocity numbers on the main display climbing told her the helmsman’s commands had been executed. The new generation of reactionless drive system (RDS) that had been fitted to the Icarus after the prototype unit had been destroyed by a Darshik energy lance gave her little to complain about. The first unit had been unreliable, somewhat dangerous, and implemented far before it was ready to be put on an operational vessel.

  The Gen III machinery, however, was an order of magnitude better. It had been properly integrated into her ship’s power management system and attitude control computers so seamlessly that the drive’s gravity fields worked in concert with their artificial gravity and didn’t blow power junctions out at the slightest provocation. It was so reliable in testing, in fact, that Celesta had abandoned her standing order of keeping the MPD main engines primed and ready for instant engagement. Unless they were flying into imminent battle she ordered her engineers to keep the engines pre-heated but the plasma chambers were empty to keep the power draw to a minimum and reduce their thermal signature from the occasional pressure relief venting. By drastically reducing the thermal signature of her ship Celesta was able to become just a hole in space, drifting silently and listening.

  “Any word from our contact, ma’am?” Commander Barrett asked as he walked onto the bridge. Celesta looked down and saw that it was thirty minutes prior to the start of second watch; she’d been on the bridge monitoring the passive sensor returns for over seven hours.

  “None, XO,” she stifled a yawn and relaxed her shoulders. “We’re still some days early so I don’t expect to receive a signal anytime soon. Let’s go ahead and keep the ship on normal watch schedules and maintain a heightened state of alert. Has there been anything I need to know regarding our VIP?”

  Barrett blinked at that. “Ambassador Cole? No, ma’am,” he said. “He’s been staying in his quarters other than to take meals in the officer’s mess or occasionally go to the command deck lounge to read. Am I supposed to have Security keeping an eye on him?”

  “No, no,” Celesta said quickly. “He’s a guest and has given no reason for distrust. I was just curious if he was interacting with the crew or not. Sometimes things slip out in the course of conversation.”

  “Ah,” Barrett said. “No … as I said, he’s been keeping to himself. Probably by design now that I look at it from that point of view.”

  “You have the bridge, XO.” Celesta grabbed her coffee mug and tile. “Don’t hesitate to call if you pick up anything.”

  “I have the bridge, aye,” Barrett said. “Have a good evening, Captain.”

  The Icarus slowly spiraled into the system, not actually named yet but given the reference designator Lima-211 by Navcom. They’d picked up nothing of interest for days. The ship’s passive sensors coupled with the much more sensitive equipment aboard the towed array built an impressively detailed model of the Lima-211 System, but there was nothing other than the expected planets, asteroids, moons, and a single lonely comet in addition to the average G-type main sequence star.

  “CIC is sending up an exception report, sir,” the second watch OPS officer said. “This is a preliminary; they’re still chewing through the raw data.”

  “Send it over to me as soon as you get it,” Barrett said. “We’ll look at it at the same time and then compare notes.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  An exception report was simply a formal write-up of a sensor anomaly that neither the computers nor the operators could identify but did not think to be threatening. Most exception reports were glanced at, filed away, and then ignored. But Barrett was bored and the review would at least be something to stimulate his mind while they waited for their Ushin contact.

  “Coming to your terminal now, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” Barrett said absently as he accessed the file.

  Barrett began reading the report summary and saw that the bulk of it pertained to a visual spectrum anomaly that had appeared briefly in the outer system. It was a non-uniform burst that dissipated quickly and was nineteen degrees port-aft of the Icarus at an estimated distance of three-point-eight billion kilometers when it was recorded, putting it more or less on the opposite side of the system. CIC was in the process of correlating any other spectral data to the event but their initial conclusions didn’t include whether or
not the flash was associated with any electromagnetic radiation or gravimetric distortion. Given how close to the primary star their line of sight to the occurrence crossed he expected it would be some time before they could dig out and isolate any relevant data.

  “Do you think it could be the Ushin delegation arriving?” Barrett wondered aloud.

  “Keep reading, sir,” the OPS officer said. Barrett scrolled through and found what his officer was referring to: Anomaly is inconsistent with the transition flash of any known class of starship including those operated by the Ushin or the Darshik.

  “So much for that theory,” Barrett muttered as he kept reading. He saw that the techs down in CIC also calculated that the intensity of the anomaly was far too weak to be a transition flash with one caveat: It was close to what they would expect to see for a transitioning Broadhead-class ship.

  The small, stealthy, long-range reconnaissance ships were ultra-rare and even their existence was classified. Barrett knew of one person who was currently operating one of the small vessels and it just so happened that he had a connection to the captain, but he didn’t think CENTCOM would bother sending Agent Pike this far out of Terran space just to keep an eye on them when the Icarus was carrying ten point-to-point com drones for the mission.

  By the end of the lengthy report all he could conclude was that the CIC had no idea what the flash was and they weren’t at all confident that even given further data they would figure it out. But, for the sake of something to do, they’d keep trying.

  It was some five hours later when CIC had something else to report that made Barrett dismiss the exception report from his mind completely.

  “Verified transition flash,” the tactical officer said. “Ushin vessel … cruiser-class. Single event detected.”

  “So it looks like they honored their side of the deal and came with one ship as well,” Barrett said. “Coms! Inform the captain that we have initial confirmation that the Ushin delegation has arrived in-system.”