by Isaac Hooke
Jonathan sighed. He leaned to one side, set his elbow on the armrest of his chair, and placed his chin in one palm.
Several more moments passed. Finally:
“I have a firing solution,” Maxwell stated. “I am sending the data to Miko’s aReal.”
“Fire when ready, Miko,” Jonathan said.
“Firing,” the tactical officer responded.
Jonathan saw the small dots representing the slugs appear on his display in two successive waves. The dots quickly vanished as the tiny projectiles moved away from the ship and beyond detection range. They became replaced with dashed lines that estimated their motion vectors; those lines eventually intersected with the calculated trajectories of the pursuers.
“Even if we’re successful,” Robert said. “Allowing them to close to a hundred and ten thousand klicks is still cutting it a bit close. The laser ship we encountered previously opened fire at us from a range of a hundred thousand. They might just decide to start firing earlier this time. The intensity will be reduced, but I doubt by much, given the range on that thing. And worst of all we won’t even have any warning. Maxwell was bragging to you earlier how the aliens wouldn’t notice if we launched the slugs because of the high temperatures of our hulls? Well it works both ways. We won’t detect any thermal build-ups on their ships either if they decide to fire.” He shook his head. “What we’re doing here is a fairly big gamble.”
“It always was,” Jonathan responded. “Even in the original plan.” He looked the commander in the eye. “A space battle always is a gamble.”
Robert pressed his lips together. “If we get one thing wrong, or the enemy decides to slow down or speed up, or otherwise changes course during the time it takes those slugs to cross the seventy-two thousand kilometer gap between us...”
“Then we miss,” Jonathan finished.
Robert rubbed his ear lobe. “A game of poker played amongst the stars.”
Jonathan nodded grimly. “A deadly game. It’s why combat is always a captain’s greatest crucible.”
He studied the tactical display intently, watching as the enemy vessels slowly closed the gap. The long, tense minutes passed at an excruciating crawl. Jonathan kept expecting the alien laser weapon to open fire. So far it hadn’t.
The atmosphere on the bridge grew more strained with every moment. The recycled air seemed to grow thicker somehow, and harder to breathe.
Remain calm, Jonathan told himself. It’s going to work. We’re going to get through this.
The enemy task unit reached the one hundred and forty thousand kilometer mark behind them.
One thirty-five.
One thirty.
One twenty.
“Captain!” Ensign Lewis said. “An infrared laser is boring into our aft quarter!”
“Helm, fire port lateral thrusters!” Jonathan said. “Rotate us! Don’t let them concentrate fire in the same place!”
On the 3D display two thin white lines had appeared, sourced from both capital ships. Those lines were gamma rays, and perhaps powered the laser. The rays converged on the laser ship, from which a single white line representing the infrared beam emerged. It terminated on the Callaway.
So the enemy had decided to fire early after all. Robert’s hunch had proved correct.
The beam fired for ten agonizing seconds before vanishing from the display.
“Ensign!” Jonathan said. “Damage report.”
“The laser cut a hole into our aft quarters just outside storage bay three,” Ensign Lewis said. “Not unexpectedly, the beam micro-corrected, compensating for our rotational movements so that the shot remained focused on a small area even while we evaded. The Whittle layer there has completely boiled away, and the laser penetrated four point five meters into the underlying hull.”
Jonathan rubbed his face “How does that compare to the damage we received in the last battle, when it fired from precisely one hundred thousand kilometers away?”
“It’s comparable,” Lewis said. “In that battle, the laser penetrated six meters instead of four point five.”
“How is our hull holding up?” the captain asked.
“Hull integrity is within tolerances,” Lewis said.
Jonathan nodded. The enemy wouldn’t know the weak spots to fire on, not even if they interrogated Barrick, as the telepath didn’t have that knowledge. Lucky thing, too, because under the current stress levels those weak spots would have explosively decompressed even under a non-breaching blow.
“However,” the ensign continued. “With the Whittle and outer layers gone, we have no heat armor in that area. Maxwell has already dispatched the repair swarm to apply a temporary heat layer immediately, in case we need to swivel that side toward the subgiant.” Lewis abruptly stiffened. “I’m detecting incoming gamma rays from the enemy. They’re concentrating fire from all their ships. Aiming everything at the damaged region.”
“Trying to poison us,” Robert muttered.
“Following their standard tactics,” Jonathan said. “Radiation levels?”
“Definitely elevated in storage bay three behind the wound,” Lewis said. “And it’s reaching into the surrounding compartments and passages.”
“Maxwell, evacuate service personnel from that area please.”
“Evacuating sixteen personnel,” Maxwell said. “With instructions to report to sick bay.”
“Helm, how long until the starboard side is facing them?” the captain asked.
“A few more moments.”
“Miko, have another ship position itself between us and that laser,” Jonathan said. “We can’t afford to take much more of this.” He was conscious of the fact that he couldn’t allow the weakened port side to face the subgiant.
“Aye Captain,” Miko said. “It’s going to take some time for the closest ship to move into position. We’re probably going to receive at least one more laser strike.”
“Starboard side is facing the enemy,” the helmsman announced. “Nose is facing the subgiant.”
A few seconds later: “Laser is firing again,” Ensign Lewis said. She looked up urgently. “We’re not the target. The Marley is.”
“Get that ship protected!” Jonathan said. The Builder was the last ship he wanted the enemy to target.
“The Salvador is already moving to cover her,” Miko said. “And the Aurelia is maneuvering in front of the Grimm.”
Jonathan exhaled, rubbing his eyes. When the laser ceased: “Damage report on the Marley?”
“She’s fine, sir,” Lewis responded. “Like us, her hull held up.” She paused. “The enemy fleet is launching gamma rays into the Marley’s wound, like they did to us. According to my blueprints of the ship, the affected sections are manned by robots.”
“Good,” Jonathan said.
“The Maelstrom has moved back in line,” Miko said. “She’s covering us.”
Jonathan stared at the jagged diagonal line on the display. “We’re presenting too many targets. Have the other ships get back in line, too, Miko. Slot the Grimm and Marley in front of us, and have the Salvador on point. I want the Maelstrom to remain directly behind us, and the rest of the warships to follow her.”
“On it,” the tactical officer replied.
“Once they’re in position, the rear ships are to take turns at the drag position over the next ten thousand kilometers, until slug impact.” He glanced at the distance indicator. “Or rather, nine thousand. Make sure they always present a fresh ship or side to the enemy, so that no one gets any hull breaches.” He watched the task group slowly move into position on the tactical display and then added, grimly: “Nothing like a deadly game of leapfrog to keep one on his or her toes.”
“Nothing like it,” Robert agreed.
The next nine thousand kilometers passed painfully slowly, with the rearmost human ships dutifully accepting their floggings in turn. None of them experienced a breach, as the respective vessels always presented the pursuers with an undamaged side.
Finally:
“Enemy vessels have reached the hundred and ten thousand kilometer mark,” Ensign Lewis announced.
Jonathan spread the digits of both hands apart and tapped his fingertips and thumbs together impatiently. Come on. Come on.
“Wouldn’t we have received confirmation of a mag-rail hit or miss by now?” Robert asked. “The AI did say the slugs would impact at the hundred and ten thousand mark...”
“Actually,” Maxwell responded. “The original hundred and ten thousand kilometer estimate was given approximately fifty-five seconds before the computation of the actual firing solution. As you may have guessed, that final computation resulted in a different distance than the original estimation. The first wave impacts are expected to occur in T-minus twenty seconds.”
“Count them out, please, Maxwell,” Jonathan said.
“Certainly. Seventeen. Sixteen.”
The captain shifted impatiently as the seconds passed.
“Ten.”
He took several deep breaths and tightened his grip on the armrests. Seeing the white knuckles around him, he released that grip.
I’m the captain. I must look calm, in control. He exhaled. Even if I’m not.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Enemy ships are taking evasive action!” Ensign Lewis announced.
“Two.”
“One.”
thirty-five
On his display, Jonathan watched the alien ships change courses in random directions. As expected, none of them attempted to fight the gravitational pull from the stars. A few braked, falling deeper toward the subgiant. Most tried to swerve to one side or another, attempting to avoid the slugs, but, judging from the flashes of light that began to riddle the video feed, they had merely navigated into more slugs, obviously not expecting the dispersal pattern to be so wide.
Three seconds later wave two struck, hitting those vessels that had descended. Two of the enemy ships braked once again, harder, diving under the second wave. They must have added dorsal thrust to the maneuvers, because their descent was far faster than before. Too fast. The alien equivalents to the helm specialists had likely overreacted: Jonathan doubted those ships would be able to recover in time to avoid traveling beyond the solar event horizon.
“Ops, update me.” Jonathan noted that three dots had vanished entirely from the display, leaving only nine pursuers.
“We destroyed three of them outright,” Ensign Lewis said, confirming his interpretations. “The laser ship, a capital ship, and one of the smaller dart ships. Two of the latter vessels have descended beyond what would be the solar event horizon for human ships. It looks like they’re in deadlock: while their descent has abated, they appear to be unable to move to a higher orbit.”
“Or unwilling,” Jonathan said.
“Given the heat they must be experiencing down there,” Lewis said. “I’d lean towards unable.”
Jonathan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “T300?”
“Unfortunately, the captain of T300 decided to take evasive action,” Lewis explained. “Even though there were no slugs directly aimed at that particular ship.”
Robert seemed to stiffen beside him.
“Can we tell if it took any damage?” Jonathan said.
She shook her head. “Because of the high external temperature, I’m not able to detect any differences in its heat signature. So either T300 got lucky and avoided hitting anything, or they’ve sustained minor damage.”
The commander exhaled quietly beside him.
“And the other six ships?” Jonathan pressed.
“Regarding the pyramid ship,” the ensign answered. “Like T300 its heat signature appears unchanged.”
“Miko and Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “You were supposed to target that one with extreme prejudice, second only to the laser ship.”
“We did target it,” the tactical officer returned. “But looking at the replay, it seems the pyramid ship chose to swerve and dive during the first wave. The vessel drifted far to port, so that when the second wave hit, probably very few of the slugs impacted.”
Jonathan rubbed his forehead. “All right. Ops, the other five?”
“The second capital ship didn’t fare quite so well,” Lewis answered. “That one’s heat signature has definitely increased, indicating moderate to major damage. Two of the other dart ships have similar heat readings, while the other two appear unchanged, indicating minor to no damage.”
On the tactical display, the red dots ascended slightly as the different enemy vessels thrust to slightly higher orbital planes, following the lead of the pyramid ship. One of them winked out as Jonathan watched.
“What just happened?” the captain said.
“That was one of the more badly damaged dart ships,” Lewis replied. “It just disintegrated. Our attack likely damaged its structural integrity, and when it tried to fire deorbital thrust, the competing forces tore the vessel apart.”
Jonathan nodded slowly. He was afraid of that very thing happening to his own ship.
“I was wrong about the two dart ships in the lowest orbit,” Lewis said. “They’re in a very slightly decaying orbit. Definitely unable to achieve escape velocity. According to Maxwell, on their current trajectory, they have about two weeks before reaching the point where the temperature and pressure destroy them, barring an unlucky solar flare.” She paused. “I’m detecting gamma rays traveling between those two ships and the pyramidal ship.”
“Communicating to mommy,” Robert muttered.
The ensign was quiet for a moment longer, and then furrowed her brow. “The two ships are applying braking thrust.” She looked up. “They’re purposely decaying their orbit to hasten their demise.”
“We’ve recorded similar behavior from them in the past,” Jonathan said. “Miko seems to think it has something to do with honor.”
The tactical officer shrugged. “If you had two weeks to live, what would you choose out there?”
“To live out every last moment,” Jonathan said. “As fully as I could.”
He stared at those two dots and in moments they vanished as the vessels incinerated. “But it would seem the Raakarr do not share my philosophy.”
He regarded the tactical display. Six ships remained in pursuit. Two of them apparently badly damaged. Whether some of their reactors or engines were offline, he couldn’t be sure, because the enemy proceeded forward at the same speed, carried by their previous momentum.
“The enemy is making random, very slight directional changes,” Ensign Lewis said.
Jonathan smiled slightly. “They’re afraid we’re going to try the mag-rail trick again. If only they knew how depleted our inventory was.”
Robert leaned forward. “Six ships. Six. We almost match them one to one.”
Jonathan scratched his chin. “One to one? With the damage we’ve inflicted, the scales might be tipped slightly in our favor. I’d order us to turn around for an attack pass, except for that pyramidal ship. It’s a big unknown.”
Robert rubbed his earlobe. “It’s smaller than their capital ship. It’s probably equivalent to our cruiser.”
“Maybe,” Jonathan said. “But I don’t like the look of those stilt legs.”
“They’re not slowing down,” Robert said. “Despite the losses, they’re itching for a fight.”
“We’ll give them one, eventually,” Jonathan said. “I just don’t want to be caught in a pincer maneuver. ETU-F2 is still out there, rounding the sun.”
“Pursuing enemy vessels are decelerating,” Lewis said.
The commander raised an eyebrow. “Maybe they don’t want to fight after all.”
“Wait,” the ensign answered. “Their speed is stabilizing again. They’re still gaining, but much more slowly.”
“Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “Given the last recorded position of ETU-F2, if those three ships proceeded directly around the sun on an intercept trajectory, when can we expect to
encounter them?”
“If ETU-F2 chose the fastest possible route, they should appear past the horizon in approximately two hours, with a projected flyby to occur fifteen minutes after that.”
“And how close would the enemy task unit be behind us by then, at their current speed?” Jonathan asked.
“Fifteen thousand kilometers,” the AI returned. “Assuming they don’t decide to decelerate again.”
“They’re planning a pincer maneuver after all,” Robert said.
“That’s exactly what they’re planning,” Jonathan agreed. “Helm, turn the Callaway perpendicular to our current direction of travel. Give us a ninety-degree attitude along our current orbital plane. Miko, transmit the order to the fleet.”
Moments later, both the helmsman and Miko responded that the ships had attained the requested attitude.
“Fire aft thrusters, helm. Seventy percent power. Miko, transmit the order to the fleet. Cut power when we’ve achieved a forty-five degree angle over our current orbital trajectory.” Jonathan glanced at the commander and said, a bit smugly: “When ETU-F2 appears, we won’t be where they expect us to be.”
“No, we won’t,” Robert agreed. “Unless of course, the aliens have a way to communicate through all that radiation.”
“Through a star?” Jonathan said. “I doubt it.” Still, the commander’s words worried him.
The vibrations in his chair became more pronounced as the Callaway fought against its previous inertia. He hoped the hull held up.
“Alien ships are matching our course,” Ensign Lewis said. “The damaged capital ship is lagging, however. As is one of the dart ships.”
“So we hit the reactors on those two after all...” Jonathan said.
Several minutes later:
“Cutting thrust,” the helmsman said.
The bridge vibrations immediately returned to previous levels.
“We’re now moving at an orbit of forty-five degrees relative to the previous trajectory,” the helmsman said.
“The enemy has matched our course,” Lewis said. “The capital ship is still lagging, however. Looks like the enemy task unit isn’t going to allow the vessel to catch up. And they’re all still issuing random directional changes.”