by Chris Hechtl
And soon she'd be dust in the solar wind, he thought.
“Weapon is primed.”
“Sensors are on line. We have a good signal from the sensors on the derelict, sir. The missile is armed, and we are getting a good signal from her telemetry as well,” CIC reported.
“Very well. On your order, Guns,” he said with a nod to the TO.
“Aye, sir. All hands, prepare for weapon fire on my signal. Tube one, prep for fire.”
“Tube one, prep for fire, aye,” a response came back from the overhead.
“Fire one!” the Neochimp intoned.
“Fire one!” the rating replied, echoing the order.
The captain and crew watched breathlessly as the missile was launched out of the missile tube. Once it was clear of the ship's shields, its drive kicked on. The missile flew for about two minutes and three hundred thousand kilometers before the drive cut out and she coasted the rest of the way in.
“Right about here the enemy would be firing their rail guns. They'd be doing everything they could to interdict the missile or missiles. I'm not sure how much this warhead will do for a standoff attack range,” the TO murmured, eyes watching his own telemetry feed. “And … now!” he said.
The captain's eyes had cut to the TO briefly, but they flew back to the main plot as the gravity-shaped nuclear charge went off. All he saw was a brief burst of light before the filters blocked it out. He turned with a frown to the sensor tech. When the tech didn't say anything at first, he grunted. “Well?”
“We're still getting reports in. Based on the readings, the weapon worked. We'll need to do an assessment though, sir.”
“It looks like a success,” the TO said cautiously.
“The force emitters were consumed by the blast, but they had just enough power to direct the charge in a cone shape,” CIC reported. “On your screen,” the woman said. The main screen changed to an image of the missile, then zoomed out to show a recon satellite feed that had been set up nearby. The screen then split again to show a quadrant view from different angles. It was clear that the normal spherical explosion had been redirected into a cone. It hadn't been a complete success however. Some of the cone had missed its intended target, but what had was good enough in the captain's eyes.
“Based on the preliminary numbers, the simulated Tauren armor was torn apart. We'll have to send an inspection team over to be sure of course. But it looks very promising,” one of the design engineers reported. “The nuclear charge acted as projected. We got within 85 percent of our simulation goal.”
“In other words?”
“In other words we turned a ten-megaton nuclear warhead into a shaped charge, sir. One on a small location so most of the explosion wasn't wasted,” the TO answered.
“Ah. Well, that's good then,” the captain replied with a nod.
(@)()(@)
Doctor Irons woke to find a nice bit of news in his inbox. Apparently, the physics department had a breakthrough on the ansible project. With the help of several A.I. and Doctor Hillman's department, they had modeled virtual Muons and found a way to not only control their rotation, but keep them from colliding with each other or the structure of their containment vessel and thus bonding and destroying themselves. Last night they'd tested the theory into the night, and the initial data looked solid. They still had a long way to go before they did a field test, but the data looked promising, very promising.
They still had to figure out a way to transport the muons to another site and install them though, one of the next big hurdles for the team to overcome.
He frowned thoughtfully as he considered the complexity of the problem. Reluctantly, he came to the conclusion that they needed to work on the project off world. If they reduced the motions the ansible components were subjected to following the KISS principle, they might make it work.
But that meant that the university would need a facility in orbit. They might even need a second one; no, scratch that, they would need a second one, he reminded himself. Where? On the outskirts of the solar system? He frowned thoughtfully and then made a note to explore the subject with the dean and college council.
He was pretty sure they wouldn't get funding now, but it was a very promising long-term project. If they had half the success as they had so far, then they would be able to lick the FTL communication problem; something that had vexed and concerned quite a few people.
Would the navy take an interest and supply funding and facilities? He frowned thoughtfully as he took his shower. That might be something to bring up to them as well. He remembered he'd pitched the idea to General Taylor before, but that was then. It hadn't been of use in defending Sol at the time. But with long lines of communication, all the way to Rho he thought, then Admiral Lewis might have a very different opinion.
If they shipped a thousand muons, would they get even one to survive the journey? The data bandwidth would be ridiculously low, but even Morse code over fifteen thousand light years would be worth it, wouldn't it?
He frowned, then caught himself trying to open a vid chat to the admiral's office. He looked down at his wet naked body and laughed at himself.
“Coffee. Coffee, towel, and getting dressed first. Not necessarily in that order,” he said as he reached for the shampoo.
(@)()(@)
Admiral Lewis shook his head as he read Doctor Irons proposal again. The professor had a point, having any sort of real- or near-real-time communications over that distance was a priceless advantage he needed to have in his back pocket. But the engineering problems were daunting; the professor hadn't pulled any punches on warning him about that. It could take years he knew.
But then again, the way the war was shaping up it could take years to fight and win too he knew. Just the distances involved, the time to get to Rho and then beyond to who knows where … he frowned.
He certainly didn't have it in the budget at the moment. But he could and would buck it up to the government. With the Confederation growing, the government would definitely like the idea of staying in contact with the colonies he reasoned. And they didn't have to test it out in Rho first he reminded himself. Putting an instillation at each of the nearby colonies would give them a bit of peace of mind … and tie them to Sol once more.
He nodded once to himself as he started to draft a memo to General Taylor and the president to consider the option carefully. It would be a long-term goal, but in his estimation a worthy investment … as long as it didn't divert funds from the navy.
(@)()(@)
“So, you think this is something worth pursuing?” President Camp asked, looking at General Taylor.
“I honestly don't know. Admiral Lewis had some telling points about how having real time intelligence could make or break an offense, especially over the distances. And having platforms placed where we can use them to alert Sol in the case of an invasion is also important,” he said.
“Having one at the hyperbridge would be nice,” the president said as he took his coat off and tossed it over the back of a chair. He unbuttoned his cufflinks, shucked his tie, and then unbuttoned his collar and then took a seat. “Damn but I hate wearing this monkey suit sometimes,” he muttered.
Roman snorted. “That's because you've still got fur. We humans shed most of ours over time.”
“Pity Doctor Glass or Doctor Lagroose didn't think of that for us,” the president replied dryly.
Roman shook his head. “Well, you could always shave,” he said with a brief smile.
The president shot him a mock glower. “Pass,” he said, brown eyes still locked on the general.
“It was just a suggestion,” Roman replied dryly.
“So, the ansible. Go or no go?”
“I think we should throw some funding at it but not as much as they'd like. Tie it to progress and give them hard deadlines. If it isn't viable, then we pull the plug.”
“Agreed. I'll have it written up for congress and the next appropriations bill. They'll love that.”
> “Probably. Now is the time; everyone is eager for something to beat back the barbarians.”
“True,” the president replied. “I'm going to send the professor a request that he focus on weapons and systems that we can use now however.”
Roman snorted. “I've tried that. He's better than some, but even he backslides occasionally. And he does have a point; there was a breakthrough.”
“True,” the president said. “Okay, so, moving on before they find me and drag me off to some function or other,” he said with a brief smile. “What else do you have for me?”
“Well, if you really want to play hooky …”
(@)()(@)
Seanex shook his head as he read the missive from the administration. It wasn't like they weren't working on offensive weapons and other things; he'd just thought the progress with the ansible was something to bring to their attention. He supposed that he should be grateful that they hadn't shut it down like they had the strangelet physics program. He regretted ever mentioning it to the general. There had been some sour looks from the physics department for months after the shutdown.
Engineering was slowly shifting away from recreating and reverse engineering the alien technology to finding out and exploiting its weaknesses. Entire navy computer complexes were dedicated to finding a chink in that armor, a way for a Terran David to knock down one of the Tauren Goliaths with a small weapon.
The idea of hacking the alien data net and pulling a Skynet was tantalizing to some. But the navy wanted a physical method of getting through the ships as well. It was the age-old competition between defense and offense.
They had new nuclear warheads, but that hadn't been enough. He and General Taylor had brought up antimatter weapons. The yields weren't very promising however. But, that had made them explore other options.
One such option were force emitter weapons. By using antimatter to power the thing, they could theoretically create a gravity bomb or other device. They had already introduced the gravity shaped nuclear warhead after one of the historians had shot him a missive about an ancient sci-fi concept. The warhead had been tested in the outskirts of the solar system. All he knew was that it had been successful since the navy had asked for the design to go into production.
It would have been nice to have seen the data from the explosion, but they'd classified it or tossed it to someone else to process he thought peevishly.
A.I. and the Mars physics departments were working on modeling other concepts that they had brainstormed. Some seemed promising on the surface. An implosion bomb was terrifying in a way. The grav lance torpedo, something to penetrate shields was something that the navy apparently liked as well.
The same historian had referenced another weapon in conjunction with the gravity-shaped nuclear charge, something called a chemical laser head. They hadn't made it work in any of the modeling however; the nuclear shock wave invariably kicked the lasing rods and threw off their aim as they were pushed forward and around before being annihilated.
It seemed like the navy had a thing for just about every weapon they thought would overcome the Tauren mass and armor advantages. He couldn't blame them in theory. Once they had a working design, he was pretty certain they would throw it into mass production as quickly as possible.
Hopefully, they made certain of their safety interlocks, he thought with a mental shudder.
Chapter 6
The launch of the first Terran starship carrier Lexington was punctuated by another public commissioning ceremony, one splashed all over the media. She would be the new flagship of Vice Admiral Jan Kepler and was destined for the Altair hyperbridge picket as soon as her sister ship Ark Royal launched.
The carrier was a purpose-built design borrowing as many parts and sections from a Republic cruiser design as possible, her new CAG reflected. The engineers and designers had tried to learn everything they could from their previous carrier experience. It remained to be seen if it all panned out long term however.
The ship had run into plenty of teething issues during her initial shake-down cruises. They'd had to repeat the cruise twice after part breakdowns had forced them back into port and a scrub of the exercise cycle. It had been a frustrating experience.
A lot of the old hands from Argus had made their way to the new ship newly-promoted Lieutenant Commander Adrienne Hatfield reflected. She was still coming to terms with being onboard as the ship's CAG. She had recovered from her near-death experience during the battle of Sol. She had no memory of blacking out, nor the searing of her lungs from her stomach acid. The psychologists wanted her to take it easy but to be honest her stay in the hospital and the shrinks chasing her around spooked her more than her brush with the reaper did. She just wanted to fly.
The first time she'd strapped into a cockpit it had taken her a full minute to get over the shakes. But once she did, she fell into the routine and mental space almost like slipping into the arms of an old lover. She had no fear of the dark, nor of the black void. The shrinks had tested her for that, and her first launch had proven she still had what it took to get the job done.
She was still getting used to being the CAG of the ship at her tender young age. She knew the navy needed everyone who had experience though; they'd lost a lot during the battle so they were forced to push everyone up fast. Also, the navy was growing incredibly fast, so she hadn't fought the promotion. She also knew that if she showed that she lacked confidence it would be a career killer.
Sometimes, late at night or when she was drowning in bureaucracy, she regretted that decision dearly. Her lips puckered involuntarily in a sour smile at her train of thought. She just hated that her time as CAG took her out of the cockpit. It also forced her to learn new skills, social skills to interact with the pilots. As a squadron commander, she had been one of the guys, just slightly in charge. As CAG she was at the seat of the table of the big guns, a few places away from God, aka the admiral.
And she hated having to deal with the other social things, like sitting in on meetings with the planning staff or having to listen to the flag staff as they tried to figure out their own roles. When a few of the new officers still fresh from the academy had started to give her directions on how to run her wing that contradicted her own training, she'd been forced to learn to stand on her own two feet after a counseling session from the skipper.
That had all happened before the official commissioning ceremony. Now as the skipper said, the training wheels were coming off. It was time for everyone to put their game faces on and kick ass.
The carrier had run through a brief series of intense working-up exercises last week. Once they had passed, the ship had been docked for a minor refit while the crew got the weekend off for liberty. They'd needed it; the last series of exercises had made everyone feel like they had been run through a ringer. It wasn't just the touch-and-go exercises that could do it; it was the hours of endless exercises and the occasional bawling out she'd had to unleash on someone who'd screwed up enough to earn her ire but not enough to be grounded or endanger the ship.
Their new orders had officially come in; it wasn't a surprise to the crew that they were going to be sent as reinforcements to the hyperbridge picket. It was nice that they'd gotten it right though, Adrienne thought as she checked out the fighters and bombers under her command.
The powers that be had done a complete evaluation and reevaluation of the craft, training, and doctrine after the battle of Sol. For instance, since the enemy lacked fighters and bombers of their own, they had eliminated interceptors from the wing. That had made more room on the ship for bombers, which were the true ship killers.
There was still some concern over keeping the fighters in service too. Some of the brass wanted to go whole hog and replace all of the fighters with bombers. She wasn't too thrilled about it. Sure, bombers were good and in some ways versatile, but they were slow and lumbering compared to the fighters. She still firmly believed in using both craft effectively against the enemy and had worked up a
series of simulations to prove her point.
The research and engineers had tried different fighter designs before settling on the latest version to enter production, the generation 4. The Starfury version had been one of its competition. Adrienne hadn't had a chance to fly the prototype since she'd been in the hands of the medics at the time of the competition, but she'd heard it had been a nimble craft in the simulators. Unfortunately, having engines outboard on the wingtips had put too much stress on the frame according to all reports. It was a hell of a structural issue; a headache that the brass had wisely decided to pass on.
The generation 3 fighters that she'd almost gotten her hands on just before the battle of Sol hadn't lasted long. They had been called the Z-95 for some screwball reason only science fiction historians knew. It had had a cluster of four cylindrical engines around the rear of the long fuselage. Blocky wings had stuck out between the engines on either flank and had served as a place to hang ordinance and store fuel. It hadn't been a favorite of the techs because the wings hadn't been designed to fold to save on valuable carrier deck space. It also had rail guns in the fuselage that made it a headache to service the avionics and pilot compartment. Even a minor fix could involve a complete tear down just to get at the right part. The fighter was the first to have a full dumb A.I. in it however, the pilots tended to call the A.I. Artoo or Beebee for some odd reason.
They'd fixed the access problem with more access panels in the generation 4 design that had just hit its stride in production. The designers had reduced the engine count to two, one on either side and slightly lower on the fuselage that had introduced a thrust vector issue, but they'd made up for it with short slanted wings with the first laser weapons on them at the wing root. The rudder had been something of an afterthought, something someone had tossed in along with flight control surfaces and a ceramic-carbon undercoating to theoretically allow the fighters to enter the atmosphere of a planet. The idea was for a ship to be able to be used to support ground troops. She and other pilots saw the rudder as an obstruction in their field of view.