by Jay Allan
“The enemy is coming in hot…velocity 0.7c.” Garravick had turned back to his workstation, and his eyes were fixed on the screen. “More vessels transiting now, captain.”
Good, she thought. Broadsword was positioned back from the warp gate, which gave her enough room to maneuver in for a shot. The enemy ships would have a hard time reacting…even with their higher general thrust capacity. Seven percent of lightspeed was fast…and it would take a long time to meaningfully alter that vector. Broadsword would have her chance…as long as the ECM let her get close enough. “Launch ECM missiles. Crash start reactor.”
Broadsword lurched as her six multi-section ECM devices launched. They would spread out and divide into ten components, each broadcasting electronic signals comparable to a ship of Broadsword’s class. Instead of one target, the enemy would have to find Jarvis’ ship among 60 fakes.
“Missiles away, captain.” The dim battery-fed lights on the bridge suddenly brightened as the reactor started up and fed power into the ship’s circuits. “Engineer Hinkle reports reactor up and running at 100%.” A slight pause as Garravick listened to the engineer’s report. “No problems…reactor is functioning normally.”
“All crew activate acceleration couches.” She leaned back and winced as her couch injected the drugs into her arm. She’d flinched a little, and the needle had gone in at a painful angle. Her couch expanded and wrapped around her snugly, just as she started to feel the sluggishness from the drugs.
“Crew secured, captain.” Garravick sounded a little more ragged than before. The drugs did that to everyone. The injections helped humans survive forces they were never meant to endure, but it came at a cost.
“Broadsword control…execute attack plan Alpha.”
Jarvis lost her breath for an instant as Broadsword’s engines blasted at 20g. She knew the AI would choose the optimum target, and at 20g, Broadsword would quickly build velocity. If the ECM decoys confused the enemy enough, Broadsword would get into range and empty its weapons into the target. If not, the ship would get sliced to pieces by the enemy particle accelerator beams.
“Enemy firing their energy weapon.” Garravick was struggling to speak under the 20g pressure, and he sounded a lot more afraid than he had before. “Captain…it looks like they’re targeting the ECM units!”
Good, she thought, but it was still a lottery. The enemy would have time to target ten ships, maybe twelve before Broadsword fired. The ECM missiles were well-designed…they even carried a small warhead to simulate a ship’s destruction. But even if the enemy bought into them entirely, it was still a dozen 1 in 60 chances they’d target Broadsword before she fired. And Jarvis and her people wouldn’t know until it happened. There was nothing to do but lay there half-crushed and wait to see if they survived.
“Captain, scanners report multiple antimatter explosions.” Garravick’s fear temporarily gave way to excitement. “It looks like Wolfhound took out a Gargoyle!”
“Good for you, Joann.” Jarvis spoke softly to herself, smiling the whole time. Joann Grissom was Wolfhound’s skipper…and one of Jarvis’ oldest friends. Another transfer from the cruiser service, Grissom and her team had executed their attack run perfectly.
Jarvis was counting off the seconds. She knew roughly when they’d be in range. It was a useless exercise, but at least it kept her mind occupied. In the end, she was a bit slow. She was still counting down from 30 when the bridge lights dimmed and all of Broadsword’s power diverted to the plasma torpedoes.
“Firing now.” Broadsword’s AI calmly announced. The ship shook wildly as it ejected the massive plasma bolt and again a few seconds later as its array of short-ranged rockets launched.
The lights dimmed again as the ship’s AI executed the escape protocol, diverting all power to the straining engines. Jarvis winced a little as Broadsword’s acceleration increased to 28g. They were on a vector almost opposite that of the enemy fleet. If we’re lucky, she thought, they won’t bother to pursue us. We’re hardly worth the effort.
“Broadsword Control - damage assessment.” It was a struggle to get the words out at 28g. Jarvis knew she’d set up a good shot; now she wanted to know how they’d done.
“We scored a direct hit, captain.” The AI’s voice was even and methodical. “It appears that we inflicted moderate localized damage to the enemy vessel. They seem to have jettisoned their antimatter ordnance before our attack hit.”
Damn, she thought…looks like Joann won the big honors. She was sorry they hadn’t taken out the enemy vessel, but at least Broadsword’s attack had stripped it of its heaviest weaponry. If the talk of enemy logistical problems was true, they might not be able to re-arm before they hit Farpoint. In that case, her people had probably saved a lot of their comrades’ lives.
They’d done what they could for the fleet…now they were working for themselves. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to remain coherent while the AI flew the ship. Now, if they just leave us alone, she thought hazily, maybe we’ll make it out of this.
She started to drift in and out of awareness, and she didn’t hear the AI when it announced that one of the enemy ships was decelerating and beginning a vector change.
Chapter 24
The Battle of Farpoint Phase One – Naval Engagement Epsilon Fornacis System
Third Fleet was arrayed for battle just past the orbit of the ninth planet, positioned to intercept an attack from either of the two Rimward warp gates. It appeared to be Third Fleet, at least, though most of the vessels were phantoms, creations of almost two hundred ECM drones positioned around less than twenty actual ships.
Admiral Sam Clark sat in the command chair of the cruiser Sussex. His mission was simple, at least in theory…trick the enemy into launching its antimatter ordnance and then get the hell out of there. He didn’t think the first part would be all that simple in practice…and the last was likely to be nearly impossible.
Clark didn’t know which warp gate the enemy would use to attack, so he’d had to position his forces to cover both. It could have been either – the invaders had occupied the systems on the other side of both of them. Now his question had been answered. Enemy ships had transited from the gate to Nu Ophiuchi, and they were bearing down on his “fleet,” coming in at 0.04c.
“They’re launching, sir.” Barrett James was Clark’s tactical officer. “Massive salvo incoming.” A brief pause. “Missiles accelerating at 205g, sir.”
Good, Clark thought. Those had to be the antimatter weapons. Hopefully it was all of them. “Very well, commander. All ships, full evasive maneuvers now. We’ve done our job; now let’s get the hell out of here.” Clark leaned back in his couch as the system activated and enveloped him. The rest of his staff was doing the same. Captain Wren would be engaging Sussex’s engines any time now, and the ship’s AI would do its best to get them out of this.
“Attention all personnel. Prepare for high g maneuvers in three zero seconds.” Wren’s deep voice boomed from the ship’s com system. They’d prepped their escape well, placing counter-measures drones all along the projected lines of retreat. The missiles that didn’t go after phantom ships would run into a deep defensive belt before they closed on Clark’s actual vessels.
“Admiral…we have energy readings from the Delta Ursae Minoris warp gate.” James’ voice was alarmed. “Ships transiting, sir.”
“Damn.” Clark was whispering to himself. He’d planned for an enemy attack from either warp gate, but he hadn’t expected them to launch a coordinated assault through both. It was a notoriously difficult operation, one Alliance tacticians found almost impossible to execute. But this enemy seemed to have a communications system that could transmit right through warp gates, making it much faster than the Alliance’s Commnet. Maybe that allowed them to coordinate disparate task forces.
“We have four Gargoyles transited so far and ten Gremlins.” The smaller enemy vessels had been dubbed Gremlins. No one was sure who had first come up with the name, but it had
become standard. “Five Gargoyles…six….wait…something else, sir…it looks like…” James went silent, staring at his screen with a stunned expression.
“What is it?” Clark instinctively tried to look over at James, but it was a futile effort strapped into his couch. He waited a few seconds, but there was still no response. “Commander James…report immediately.” Clark, like most flag officers, had a decided lack of patience…especially in the middle of a fight.
“Sorry, sir…” The tactical officer pulled out of his distraction, but his voice was distant, preoccupied. “Sir, we have a new enemy ship type…estimated mass 650,000 tons.”
The bridge was silent. Clark lay back in his couch trying to imagine the enemy vessel…three times the tonnage of the Yorktown class battleships that were the pride of the Alliance navy. And stuffed with technology centuries more advanced than anything found on one of the Yorktowns. The implications were overwhelming. If that thing was loaded up with antimatter weapons, Third Fleet didn’t have a chance.
“Enemy fleet number two is on a course to rendezvous with the first force…” There were a few seconds of silence as James rechecked his calculations. It wasn’t easy concentrating at 20g. “…approximately ten light minutes from Farpoint.”
“Very well.” The best laid plans, Clark thought to himself. Even if he’d gotten the first enemy force to launch all its antimatter ordnance, this second group probably had enough to take out West’s ships at long range. He had to do something.
“Commander James, all ships are to prepare to cease thrusting and await a new course.”
“But admiral, our retreat vectors are carefully calculated. If we’re off by so much as a fraction of a degree we’ll miss the ECM corridor.” James didn’t add that if they missed the prepared defensive array they had very little chance of surviving the pursuing missiles.
“I’m aware of that, commander.” Clark’s voice was icy. He had fought back an instant of doubt, but he knew what he had to do. What his people had to do. “Now carry out my orders.”
“Yes, sir.” James sounded suitably chastised…and scared as well.
“Sussex Control, calculate a fleet attack vector to intercept the second enemy force.” Clark’s resolve was firm.
“How do you want the fleet to approach, admiral?” The AI’s voice was calm and professional, quite unaffected by the intense pressure of 20g thrust or the enormous danger posed by Admiral Clark’s new plan.
“Directly at them.” Clark sounded strangely calm for a man ordering his force to make a suicidal charge. “We’re going right down their throats.”
Erica West stared straight ahead with an intensity that could have bored through solid plasti-steel. After months of preparation, it was time. Finally she would give the enemy a real fight. If they wanted Farpoint, they were going to have to take it from her.
Her defense in depth strategy had paid off, delaying the enemy attack forces and forcing them to expend ordnance. She would soon find out if the enemy’s logistical problems were as severe as the high command thought.
She was trying not to think about Sam Clark and his people. She wasn’t sure they were all dead – at least she wanted to believe some of them might have survived. If they were alive, she wouldn’t know. Their only hope was to run silent and pray the enemy lost track of them.
She sighed softly. The operation had been as carefully designed as possible. West was determined that it not be a suicide mission, and she’d meticulously planned the task force’s escape route. But she hadn’t planned for the enemy to come in through both warp gates.
One thing she knew for sure…alive or dead, Sam Clark was going to get the Navy Starburst. It was the highest decoration a naval officer could be awarded, and she just wished she had something even more meaningful to honor the bravery of her second-in-command and his crews. Somehow, Clark’s ships had gotten close enough to the second enemy task force to induce at least some of the ships to launch or jettison their antimatter weapons. She had no idea how he’d done it, but from the flood of Delta-Z signals, it hadn’t come cheap. In the aftermath of her successful ambush at Cornwall, it appeared the enemy was closely following its antimatter protocols. It remained to be seen whether Clark had stripped the entire enemy fleet or just a portion of it, but West was grateful for every antimatter warhead expended in deep space instead of fired at her fleet.
Third Fleet had been reinforced, its OB strengthened by the addition of two capital ships, including one of the Yorktown class behemoths. By all rights she should have transferred her flag to Princeton, but Cambrai had served her well, and she wasn’t going to abandon the old girl now. It just didn’t seem right somehow. For better or worse, Third Fleet would be led from the most ancient battleship in the navy.
“Enemy fleet has passed previously identified launch zone for anti-matter powered missiles.” West had instructed her AI to advise her on the attacker’s progress. It was highly redundant – West herself was monitoring the enemy’s status more or less constantly.
“Thank you, Athena.” West preferred to work directly through her AI. It was quicker and more efficient, and her staff was used to being bypassed. Some officers, older ones in particular, liked a more traditional workflow, barking out orders to their tactical and comm officers, who then worked through the AIs. She thought that was hidebound and inefficient, but a lot of flag officers felt it kept their staffs sharper and more engaged.
West glanced down at her screen, which displayed a projected plot of the enemy fleet. They were decelerating hard, and her scanners were easily picking up the massive energy output. She didn’t know the detection capability of the enemy vessels – that was one piece of the puzzle the Alliance didn’t have – but her ships were putting out a lot less energy, and they would be harder to pick up.
“Athena, execute Alpha launch.”
“Executing, admiral.” Farpoint’s orbital fortresses supported several wings of fighter-bombers, and now the bay doors opened and 90 of the sleek attack craft launched.
“Prepare for Beta launch. All crews to the launch bays.” West’s three capital ships carried another 54 bombers. They were scheduled to launch when the fortress-based squadrons were two light-seconds out, giving them time to accelerate and match course and velocity. West wanted her attack craft going in as one big strike force. They all had enhanced power cells, increasing their range and allowing her to launch them before the missile volleys. They had a job to do, one a bit different than usual…but no one had ever accused Erica West of adherence to orthodoxy.
Commander Greta Hurley leaned back in her acceleration couch and double checked her ship’s status. Princeton’s strike force commander was set to lead the combined bomber wings…144 attack craft in all. Hurley was a veteran bomber pilot with years of service. She’d fought in Admiral Garret’s massive victory at Gliese 250 during the war and two dozen other engagements. She’d been in more than one battle where fewer than half the bombers that launched came back, but this one was different…she knew that much. This time she wasn’t sure any of them would make it back. And if they did, they probably wouldn’t have any place to land anyway. There weren’t too many illusions in the fleet about what they were going to face.
Third Fleet’s morale was surprisingly good - that was Admiral West’s doing. She’d shuttled around, speaking to the various ships’ crews in person and reminding them how important this fight was. She’d realized the waiting would be the hardest part, and she had resolved to do whatever was necessary to help her people stay ready. Even a jaded veteran like Greta Hurley was affected by West’s inspiring leadership.
Now Hurley lay in her couch awaiting the final launch order. After months of preparation, training, and waiting, it was almost time. Her crews were ready, she was sure of that. This mission was like none she’d ever flown. When Admiral West first suggested it, Hurley had been doubtful, but now she was completely convinced…certain that West’s plan was brilliant. It would be difficult, but if her peop
le could pull it off it might make a big difference in the battle.
The status light on her screen switched to yellow, indicating the launch order was imminent. She switched her com to the force-wide frequency. “Alright people, let’s activate our couches and prepare for launch.” She settled back in her own couch and whispered to her AI, “Activate.”
Hurley closed her eyes, as she usually did just before a launch. It was a personal habit she’d picked up over the years. She felt the pin-prick of the injections and the pressure around her body as the AI triggered the chemical reaction that expanded the cushioning of her couch into a heavy cocoon that nearly enveloped her body. She was scared; she couldn’t deny that to herself. She didn’t really expect to return, not from this mission. But she knew her duty…and she wasn’t about to let Admiral West down.
“Good luck, people.” She pushed back the fear…she wasn’t about to be weak when her crews needed her. “Let’s go get those bastards.”
She lay there quietly, waiting for the bomber to launch. Everything was in the hands of Princeton’s battle computer now. A few seconds passed, perhaps half a minute…then the status light flashed green and she felt the pressure of rapid acceleration as the magnetic catapult blasted her ship out into space.
The mag catapults gave the bombers enough velocity to quickly clear Princeton so their own engines could safely fire. A bomber launch was a jerky affair…the pressure of the catapult followed by a few seconds of free fall as the ship cleared the danger zone around the mother ship, then the intense g force as the bomber’s engines fired at full thrust.
“Ok people, let’s get this right.” Her wings from the capital ships were linking up with those from the orbital fortresses. The AIs had all the course changes locked in, but she still wanted her people alert and aware. They had an unorthodox mission and a formation none of them had flown before. They’d practiced it twice, but that was all they’d had the excess supplies for. Hurley would have liked another 3 or 4 exercises before the real deal, but the pair of dry runs would have to do.