The Nameless War

by Edmond Barrett

  "Captain, the contact will now intercept in four minutes, it will enter plasma cannon range in thirty seconds, and point defence will be in range in two minutes fifteen." The voice of the ship gunnery officer echoed over the intercom.

  Crowe waved Berg over.

  "What do you think?" He asked her quietly.

  "I’m starting to get worried." She admitted in an equally quiet voice. "At that velocity they’re going to fly by us unless they have one hell of an engine."

  "A fly by is not what’s really worrying me."

  "You think they could be hostile?"

  "I’m open to the possibility."

  "We have no readings that resemble weapons."

  "That doesn’t prove anything."

  Berg looked concerned.

  "They’ll crucify us if we get this wrong."

  "No they’ll crucify me." Crowe replied. "Sensors any change?"

  "Negative, sir. Approach track remains consistent."

  Crowe looked around his bridge and wondered whether the next few minutes would see the end of his career. The lights on the weapons readiness board glowed the orange tone for standby.

  "Button up the Port side radiator. Guns, load and charge primary armament, load point defence batteries, fire only on my command." He ordered.

  "Captain what the hell are you doing?" Copland burst out as he pushed forward.

  "Taking precautions." Crowe replied tightly.

  "You’re planning on opening fire!"

  Crowe gave the diplomat a cold look.

  "I’m planning to protect this ship any way I can. Now get back there and shut up!" He finished with a snarl.

  "Damn it! Your trigger-happy kind started the last war." Copland screamed.

  "Control yourself or get off my bridge!" Crowe roared back at him.

  There was sudden ping from one of the main sensor consoles.

  "Contact has just started emitting Doppler radar!" One of the sensor operators shouted.

  "Contact’s acceleration is increasing… its engines have gone full burn!"

  Crowe’s eyes widened as it all finally clicked and the sense of unease that had been building suddenly to outright horror.

  "Dear God! That’s not a probe, it’s a missile!" Crowe shouted. "Point defence! Commence! Commence! Commence! Engines all ahead emergency power! Helm hard to port, bows up forty-five degrees! Countermeasures full spread!"

  A steady thumping noise echoed through the hull as the point defence guns started to launch explosive charges at the approaching missile. All four of the main gun turrets started to turn to bear. The barrels of the six plasma cannons started to glow as highly energized plasma was pumped into the firing chambers. On the main view screen the point defence projectiles started to burst around the missile. The pod on the top of the missile was ripped away, the front mounted radar dish was turned into a sieve but the missile kept coming.

  The missile came curving in as Mississippi twisted desperately to avoid it. But the evasive manoeuvres had been left too late.

  "It’s going to hit." Berg shouted as she tried to belt herself into her chair. "All hands brace for impact!"

  The blast was deafening, as every surface of the ship became a giant soundboard. Control panels and light bulbs shattered sending out sprays of glass and metal, cables were ripped from their mountings and crew thrown across ship chambers. Screams and cries of pain came from several parts of the bridge.

  Berg got to her feet and cradling her right arm staggered over to the main damage control display.

  "Mutter des Gottes!" She said shakily as she reviewed the mass of flashing lights. "Hull breaches, conning tower plus decks one, two and three from frame C through to frame E. The port cargo pod and port wing are gone. Fire in junction room two. Upper radar array off-line. Passive sensor arrays one and four off-line. Engines one and four off-line. Turrets A and B off-line. Reactor one and generator one both off-line… Oh God. The Jump Drive is off-line."

  More than half the ships critical systems were out of action. Crowe knew that damage on that scale could only mean heavy casualties among his crew, and after two years with few personnel changes he knew every one of them. He tried to contact engineering but the intercom crackled uselessly. Behind him he could hear Berg giving out instructions to her damage control teams runners. The forward display was now only showing half a sphere. With the dorsal radar arrays out of action they were blind into the upper arc.

  "Helm put us into a slow roll. One complete revolution every thirty seconds." He snapped before trying his intercom again. Several minutes crawled by before the Lazarus systems found a working connection and re-established the main intercom "Bridge to Chief Engineer."

  "Chief engineer here." It crackled back.

  "Chief, what’s our situation with the Jump Drive?"

  "The lads in the drive compartment have reported that they took a power surge; I’m moving forward now to see the lie-of-the-land."

  "What about the rest of engineering?"

  "The port side engine room is a wreck. Engines one and four are probably both write-offs, reactor one and generator one are both none functional."

  "Any hope of the reactor or generator going again?" Crowe asked.

  The chief quickly stamped on the hope.

  "Not a prayer skipper, the reactors control board is in component parts. Plus the port side radiator is terminally cabbaged, plus we’ve suffered a major fluid leak to the aft radiator so it’s only working at about half efficiency. To top it all off the exchange lines to the number two sink have been severed so we don’t even have enough capacity left to run two reactors anyway."

  "Get back to me once you know the situation with the jump drive." Crowe ordered.

  "Will do, Chief out."

  Crowe switched his intercom onto a different channel.

  "Bridge to fire control. Guns, what’s the situation?"

  There was a long pause on the line before an unfamiliar voice answered.

  "The gunner’s dead, sir." came a shaky reply.

  "Who’s this?" Crowe asked.

  "Sub lieutenant Mamista, sir."

  Crowe mentally cursed. One of his most junior officers was now in control of the ships remaining armament.

  "All right Mamista you’re going to have to manage back there for a while. What’s your condition."

  "About as bad as it could be, sir. It looks like both A and B turrets are total losses. C and D are operational but the command lines have been broken so both turrets are on local control. We still have control over the two missile turrets but both auto loaders have jammed. I have their crews trying to free them up now. The Lazarus systems are bringing what’s left of the point defence guns back on line. They are about the only thing I have direct control over right now."

  For all the fear in his voice Mamista seemed to be making a fair job of holding it all together.

  "Good work sub, keep at it we’ll get help to you as soon as possible. Bridge Out."

  Crowe just started to turn back towards the damage control console when a shout came from across the bridge.

  "Contact! Bearing two-oh-five dash one seven three! Profile matches first missile!"

  "Time to intercept?" Crowe shouted.

  "It’s coming at full burn, sir. Three minutes twenty to convergence!"

  Berg turned towards him and called out.

  "We have forty percent of port side point defence and ninety of starboard."

  Crowe shook his head.

  "Point defence was no bloody use the first time. The missile was bracketed several times without effect." Switching on his intercom he asked. "Bridge to fire control. Sub, what’s our chance of hitting the contact with plasma cannons?"

  "On local control sir, our guns have almost no chance of hitting a target of that size and speed." Mamista replied.

  "Captain, all that damage means we’re putting out a hell of big radar profile on our port side." Berg said. "If we keep our starboard side to the missile that might give
us a better chance of spoofing it."

  "Not with the cargo pod. The first one got a solid lock on the port side pod." Crowe replied as he fought down a rising sense of despair. Mississippi was hurt bad, he could see it on the Damage Control display and feel it through the soles of his boots. What the hell were his options? Shooting his way out wasn’t a runner. They probably couldn’t take another one like that, hell they’d probably been lucky to take the first one. Spoofing it didn’t seem that likely with that big lump of a supply pod providing a nice big radar return…?

  "But what about…" Berg started.

  "Yes!" Crowe shouted. "Activate the bracket charges. Prepare to jettison the pod on my command." He switched his intercom to ship wide. "Captain to all hands; prepare to cut to silent running. Fire Control, when the missile comes into effective range fire your charge then power down your guns. Countermeasures, prepare to fire a full spread when the missile gets within two hundred clicks. Helm, complete roll and present our starboard side."

  "Missile two and half minutes from convergence."

  Crowe forced himself to sit down and wait for his orders to be carried out. On the holo-screen the red blip representing the missile continued to close in on the small green sphere at the centre of the holo.

  "Two minutes."

  "Plasma cannons firing." Three green bolts hurtled away from the ship; all of them missed the missile.

  As the plasma bolts sped past the missile Crowe felt himself relax. For better or worse he was now committed.

  "Are any of the EMDs still operational?"

  "Yes, sir. One is still responding to commands." Replied the navigating officer.

  "Download our logs up to right now. If this doesn’t work launch it. Don’t wait for the order, just use your own judgement." Crowe ordered.

  "Yes, sir."

  If Mississippi didn’t survive then at least he would still be able to tell the fleet what had happened to them.

  "Ninety seconds."

  "Jettison charges ready."

  "Silent running and jettison charges on my mark." Crowe ordered. "Fire counter measures now."

  Three small chaff rockets blasted away from the Mississippi to explode a hundred kilometres in front of the missile, laying down a glittering curtain of silver foil strips.

  "Incoming Doppler radar!"

  The missile adjusted minutely as it started to receive data from its terminal guidance system.

  "Now!" Crowe shouted.

  Two muffled thumps echoed through the hull as charges severed the brackets holding the pod to the ship and propelling it away from them. The starboard side thrusters fired pushing the ship away from the pod. At the same time thin metal screens started to slide forward mostly screening the outlets of the engines and armoured shields closed over the heat radiators. For a moment the missile seemed to hesitate between its two choices as it pushed through the curtain of chaff. Then it made the tiny alteration needed and slammed into the cargo pod.

  The missile detonated only two kilometres from Mississippi’s hull. The pieces of the cargo pod punctured several sections of the hull and ship was once again rattled from stem to stern. Several members of the bridge crew let out brief cheers, before being silenced by a scowl from Berg.

  "We may have dummied the missile Captain, but not necessarily the launcher." Berg said quietly.

  "We’ll know in a few minutes either way." Crowe replied. Noting his first officer’s tight expression he turned to one of the ratings, sitting uselessly in front of the upper radar array display. "Garrity, go down to sickbay and get a sling for the first officer."

  Berg nodded her thanks as the crewman left.

  "Navigator, how long till we coast clear of planetary mass shadow?" Crowe asked.

  "On our current track, sir, with the engines shut down, approximately two and three quarter hours, sir." She replied.

  Berg nodded to herself. "Drift clear then bug-out as soon as we can." She said.

  "Assuming the chief can get the Jump Drive going again." Crowe switched on his intercom. "Bridge to Guinness. Chief report please."

  "Chief here. Have we finished rocking and rolling yet?" The chief engineer asked in a dry voice.

  "We’re waiting to find that out ourselves. What’s the current news on the Jump Drive?"

  "Luckily the circuit breakers protected the drive itself but the motors that lower the control nodes took the full force of the overload, sir. They aren’t just burnt out; each one has been fused into a solid lump."

  "Can you fix or replace them?"

  “Certainly can’t fix ’em, they’re all utterly cabbaged. We only have a couple of spare units so I can’t replace them all. Best bet is cut the motors off the top of each node then manually crank them into position."

  "How big a job is all this?" Crowe asked.

  "It’s not big, but it is slow, sir. We can’t use a cutting lance in case we toast a node as well, so we’re back to the old fashioned hacksaw. There’s only room for two of us in here so it gonna be two or three hours work."

  "All right chief let me know if there is any change, bridge out." Crowe turned to Berg. "At the earliest opportunity we are going to bail the hell out of here. Whoever they are, they’re hostile."

  "Not necessarily captain." Said a weak voice. Professor Rey un-wedged himself from a corner of the bridge. "The actions are hostile but the fundamental intent might not be. But I agree this isn’t the time to try to find out."

  "What does our diplomat have to say?" Crowe asked.

  "Very little I think, sir." Berg replied pointing to the floor. Copland lay with his neck bent at unnatural angle. She knelt awkwardly and checked for a pulse, after a few seconds she shook her head.

  Crowe had been far from fond of the diplomat, but his safety had been Crowe’s responsibility and he had failed him.

  "Any idea on casualties yet?" Crowe asked quietly as two crewmen pushed the diplomat into a corner of the bridge.

  Berg shook her head.

  "The surgeon hasn’t reported yet, sir."

  Crowe sighed and flicked on his intercom again. "Bridge to sickbay"

  There was a long pause.

  "Sickbay here what the hell is it?" The surgeon voice snarled.

  "Report." Crowe snapped back.

  "At least five confirmed fatalities, with two more to follow, eleven seriously wounded and Christ only knows how many minor wounded!"

  Crowe winced, Mississippi had a total crew of only seventy. Including the walking wounded anything up to a third were probably already killed or hurt. In the background Crowe could hear someone screaming.

  "Damn it I’m being swamped up here… no. No. NO! Just shut the hell up and give her morphine she’s had it… Damn it Captain! I need more assistance here."

  "We’ll get some to you as soon as we can. Bridge out" Crowe looked round his bridge. The surgeon had been on an open line so the entire bridge crew had heard. Every face wore the same expression, one of relief that they were alive and guilt for being grateful that someone else had been killed or hurt. Crowe shook off the thought of the task of letter writing to husbands, wives or parents and finding the right words. This might not be over yet and he couldn’t afford to let himself be distracted. Right now he couldn’t afford to think of them as human beings, only as warm bodies for keeping his ship going.

  Turning to Berg he ordered,

  "Commander, arrange a head count as soon as practical. See what we have left in the way of a crew."

  "Yes, sir." Berg replied. "I’m going to have to…" She paused as Rating Garrity handed her a sling. Then tried for a moment to pull it on one handed.

  "Here let me." Crowe took it from her.

  Berg nodded her thanks as she turned to allow him to loop it around her neck. She then carefully lifted her useless arm into the sling.

  "You were saying?"

  "I need a lot extra hands to flesh out my damage control teams."

  To expand their range the ship’s compliment had been reduced,
plus much of the damage control teams had been replaced with civilian science personnel. They hadn’t expected Mississippi to get into a fight out here and as a result she simply wasn’t manned for battle line duties.

  "With all the systems we’ve lost we may have spare crewmembers in weapons, sensors and engineering. Take as many as you can without degrading what we have left."

  Aside from the remains of both cargo pods the main display remained empty. The surviving sensor systems were attempting to cover the gaps left by those damaged but they were still blind in several arcs, unfortunately there wasn’t much they could do about it. Rolling the ship again would mean firing the engines, possibly revealing their position. Minutes slowly ground by as the crewmen manning the surviving passive sensors studied their displays with intense concentration. Every slight anomaly was compared against the record database of the first two attacks. The intense silence was broken as the helmsman coughed causing several of the crew to start violently. He looked around and gave a sheepish smile as several people cursed him quietly.

  The next hour crept slowly by. But without incident.

  On his bridge Crowe listened to the steady stream of damage reports. It steadily became more apparent just how badly they had been hit. Guinness had briefly appeared on the bridge to give a full engineering report before disappearing below to supervise the work on the jump drive. If the damage had seemed bad at first, closer examination wasn’t improving the view. The structural strength of the hull was seriously compromised in several places, whip-lashing of the hull had ripped control and power lines from their mounting all over the ship, leaving the ship’s infrastructure almost fatality compromised. The Lazarus systems were designed to automatically re-route power and command signals around damaged sections. But for them the ship would have lost all power immediately and have been left helpless against the second strike. But the system had been pushed to its limit, as it was the system throughflow display now looked a mess as the computer shunted power and command signals through whatever remaining connections it could find. The result of this was that there was simply no slack left in Mississippi’s systems. Another bad hit, even if the hull held together, could see them left dead in space.